OUTHERN 
HERO 


SAMUEL  H.THQMPSON 


GLOBE  BOOK  COM  PANT 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SOUTHERN 
HERO  TALES 


BY 


SAMUEL  H.  THOMPSON 


GLOBE  BOOK  COMPANY 
MORRISTOWN,  TENN. 


Copyriprht,  1914,  by 
MCQUIDDY  PRINTING  COMPANY 


S  DEDICATION 

05 

To  the  hero-loving  spirit  of  the  high- 

-•  hearted  boys  and  pure- 

hearted  girls 

m  of  the 

g  G-EEAT  NEW  SOUTH 

:? 

this  little  volume  of  stories  about  men  who 

helped  in  the  making  of  our  nation 
o  is  lovingly  dedicated  by 

o  THE  AUTHOR. 

o 

03 


447984 


CONTENTS 


Daniel  Boone,  Statesman  and  Poet ....  7 

Always  a  Winner 19 

"The  Iron  Man" 37 

The  Hunter  Hero 51 

A  Bom  Leader 65 

Walking  to  Congress 79 


DANIEL  BOONE,  STATESMAN  AND  POET 

A  long  time  ago  there  lived  among  the  beautiful  hills 
and  mountains  of  our  Southern  country  a  man  whose 
fame  as  a  hunter  and  trapper  is  told  over  and  over  again 


DANFKI,  BOONE 


to  our  boys  and  girls,  [n  speaking  of  his  great  prowess 
as  a  hunter,  which  was  made  necessary  by  the  wild  and 
lonely  life  he  lived,  we  often  forget  that  Daniel  Boone 


8  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

was  more  than  all  these,  and  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  statesman  and  a  poet  as  well  as  a  great  pioneer 
backwoodsman.  From  comparatively  old  parts  of  the 
country,  as  he  counted  age,  Boone  led  victorious  parties 
in  search  of  new  homes  into  a  land  that  indeed  flowed 
with  milk  and  honey.  No  man  could  do  so  many  suc- 
cessful things  for  the  people' he  loved  and  served  who 
did  not  have  back  of  him  good  parents  and  in  his  heart 
and  mind  an  ambition  for  the  higher  things  of  life  that 
filled  his  soul  full  of  an  endless  longing  to  be  of  great 
service  to  the  teeming  world  of  humanity. 

Boone's  father  and  mother  were  both  Quakers,  the 
father  having  come  direct  from  England  to  join  Penn's 
colony  and  become  free  from  the  persecution  given  fol- 
lowers of  that  sect  in  England.  His  father  is  described 
as  "a  man  of  rather  small  stature,  fair  complexion,  red 
hair,  and  gray  eyes;"  while  his  mother  was  "a  woman 
something  over  the  common  size,  strong  and  active, 
with  black  hair  and  eyes." 

Daniel  was  the  sixth  child  bom  to  Squire  and  Sarah 
(Morgan)  Boone,  resulting  from  the  marriage  in  the 
Quaker  meetinghouse  by  the  Quaker  ceremony  on  July 
23,  1720 — lacking  but  a  day  of  being  exactly  one  month 
after  John  Wesley  entered  Oxford  College.  It  seemed  in- 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  9 

evitable  that  this  boy  should  be  a  great  hunter.  His 
first  playthings  were  guns,  powder  horns,  and  hunting 
knives.  Early  in  life  he  became  skilled  in  throwing  the 
knob-rooted  sapling  and  capturing  smaller  game  with  his 
hands.  At  the  age  of  twelve  his  father  gave  him  a  light 
rifle,  which  was  a  delight  and  a  pleasure.  He  now  be- 
came a  man  in  his  own  thought.  He  soon  became  known 
for  his  markmanship  and  for  his  prowess  in  search  of 
big  game.  In  his  seventeenth  year  his  family  departed 
for  North  Carolina,  Squire  Boone  and  son,  Israel,  hav- 
ing been  "disowned"  by  the  Quakers — just  why,  no  one 
seems  to  know — although  no  one  regards  this  as  the  rea- 
son for  the  departure.  The  family  settled  in  the  valley 
of  the  Yadkin  River,  in  Davie  County,  and  soon  became 
leaders  in  their  community,  whose  citizens  were  miles 
apart.  When  the  French  and  Indian  war  broke  out, 
Boone  joined  the  side  of  the  English,  but  was  forced  to 
go  as  a  wagoner  and  mechanic  when  he  wanted  to  go 
as  a  rifleman.  His  grandfather  was  a  blacksmith,  and 
it  is  supposed  that  Boone  had  learned  the  trade;  but  in 
time  of  war  to  be  a  wagoner  was  as  Pegasus  to  the  plow 
to  him. 

In  this  war  Boone  met  a  man  named  John  Findley, 
who  related  to  him  a  glowing  account  of  a  remote  coun- 


10 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 


try  south  of  the  Ohio  River,  where  the  hunting  was  the 
best  in  the  world.  This,  of  course,  interested  the  young 
mountaineer  more  than  anything  else,  and  he  was  soon 
making  trips  of  his  own  accord  into  this  new  land.  The 
Indians  called  this  wonderful  country  "Kentucky,"  and 
preserved  it  as  a  hunting  ground  nominally  open  to  all, 
but  about  which  there  was  to  be  much  dark  and  bloodv 


RKT.ICS  OF  DANIEL  BOONK 

fighting  among  whites  and  Indians  almost  alike  for  the 
possession  of  a  choice  bit  of  land. 

But  with  all  his  warrior  spirit,  Daniel  Boo-ne  was  not 
without  his  romantic  characteristics.  Near  his  home  in 
the  Yadkin  valley  lived  a  high-spirited  Scotch-Irish 
family  named  Bryan.  Black-eyed,  rosy-cheeked  Rebecca 
Bryan  made  a  conquest  of  the  strong-limbed  boy  from 
the  start.  She  was  but  fifteen  when  they  plighted  their 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  11 

troth,  and  but   seventeen  when  they  were  married  by 
Squire  Boone,  who  was  a  justice  of  the  peace. 

In  the  dark  days  on  the  border  Boone  found  himself 
of  great  service  to  the  settlers,  especially  to  those  who 
found  it  necessary  to  organize  themselves  into  small  par- 
ties and  go  against  Indian  marauders,  or  even  carry  the 
expedition  far  into  the  Indian's  country,  as  was  often 
necessary.  He  was  skilled  in  all  the  ways  of  fighting 
the  dangerous  red  man,  and.  also  of  caring  for  himself 
and  those  dependent  upon  his  leadership.  As  travel  be- 
came less  dangerous  or  as  the  fertile  lands  far  away 
became  more  attractive,  Boone  was  relied  upon  to  lead 
not  only  parties  of  hunters  and  trappers  into  new  and 
dangerous,  though  attractive,  regions,  but  he  guided  car- 
avans consisting  of  several  families  who  expected  to 
make  for  themselves  and  theirs  permanent  homes  in  the 
new  land.  The  old  Boone  trail  led  out  of  North  Carolina 
across  Eastern  Tennessee  and  into  Kentucky.  Boone 
was  doubtless  the  first  white  man  to  make  a  permanent 
trail  through  Tennessee,  which  he  did  as  early  as  1759 
or  17()0.  The  writer  has  seen  the  following  inscription 
upon  a  beech  tree  standing  in  sight  of  the  old  stage  road 
leading  from  Jonesboro  to  Blountville  in  Tennessee: 


12  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 


- 

D.  Boon 

- 

Gill  E  D 

A.  BAE 

On 

in 

ThE 

Tree 

yEAE 

- 

1760 


The  spelling,  punctuation,  and  arrangement  are  just 
as  Boone  placed  them.  Time's  corroding  touch  has  so 
obliterated  the  letters  that  I  doubt  if  they  may  be  seen 
at  this  time.  But  the  tree  is  there  yet  and  may  be  lo- 
cated beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  It  stands  on  the 
bank  of  Boone's  Creek  near  where  it  flows  into  Watauga 
River,  and  only  a  stone's  throw,  so  to  speak,  from  where 
William  Bean  built  his  cabin  in  1769,  which  was  the  first 
permanent  home  erected  by  English-speaking  people  in 
Tennessee.  His  son,  Russell  Bean,  was  the  first  white 
child  born  on  Tennessee  soil.  This  tree  stands  eight 
miles  north  of  Jonesboro,  the  oldest  town  in  the  State, 
and  where  Andrew  Jackson  practiced  law  when  he  first 
came  to  Tennessee. 

But  I  have  said  that  Daniel  Boone  was  a  statesman. 
There  are  various  definitions  for  statesman,  one  of  which 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  13 

is,  "a  dead  politician."  My  definition  for  a  statesman 
is  one  who  does  constructive  work  with  a  vision  and  an 
insight  justified  by  time.  Such  was  Daniel  Boone,  and 


DANIEL  BOOXE'S  TREE 

as  such  must  he  live  in  history.  Some  have  thought  him 
a  hermit-like  mountaineer  because  tradition  says  when 
he  found  a  neighbor  as  close  as  fifteen  miles  he  imme- 
diately penetrated  farther  into  the  forest.  Both  are 


14  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

doubtless  true  in  that  he  led  others  with  him  that  they, 
too,  might  share  in  the  abundant  game,  new  fertile  soil, 
and  pure  streams  of  crystal  water.  He  was  a  pathfinder 
in  the  sense  that  he  blazed  the  way  where  none  dared 
precede  him  and  only  few  were  brave  enough  to  follow. 
When  he  left  his  home  in  the  rich  and  peaceful  valley 
of  the  Yadkin  with  his  lovely  black-eyed  Rebecca,  charm- 
ing as  a,  Jewess,  and  their  infant  son,  James,  it  was  only 
that  he  might  show  other  families  that  they  could  brave 
the  dangers  of  the  unknown  forest  and  survive.  AVheu 
he  went  into  what  is  now  Tennessee  less  than  a  dozen 
years  after  the  first  white  man  set  foot  on  her  soil  and 
nine  years  before  the  first  home  was  established,  it  was 
only  that  new  territory  might  be  opened  for  those  seek- 
ing homes  where  fresh  soil  and  uncut  timber  were  to 
be  found  in  abundance.  Through  it  all  he  looked  with 
the  eye  of  a  statesman,  and  every  vision  thrilled  him  with 
the  inspiration  of  a  poet  whose  untaught  and  unlettered 
mind  could  not  set  its  poetic  fancy  to  words.  He  did 
know  more  about  Transylvania  than  any  man,  and  it  was 
because  he  saw  it  all,  and  not  merely  the  animal  trails, 
the  virgin  timber,  the  fine  springs,  and  the  unending  soil, 
but  he  saw  them  all  in  one  out  of  eyes  that  looked  from 
a  statesman's  mind.  Very  few  people  know  that  as  early 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  15 

as  1765  Boone  penetrated  as  far  south  as  Florida  by  way 
of  Tennessee,  "Western  Virginia,  and  Kentucky.  But  he 
did.  He  a  I  most  made  up  his  mind  to  settle  at  Pensa- 
cola,  but  that  beautiful,  rosy-cheeked,  thrifty  Scotch  wife 
dissuaded  him,  and  he  was  saved  to  become  the  great 
pilot  of  the  no  less  and  no  greater  wilderness.  He  often 
left  his  wife  and  children  for  months  that  he  might  find 
new  territory,  but  it  was  not  that  he  loved  them  less. 
Rather  he  felt  that  he  must  do  the  work  his  soul  bade 
him  do.  While  he  had  a  fondness  for  the  untrammeled 
life  of  the  forest,  he  was  also  devoted  to  his  family  and 
felt  that  he  could  do  much  better  for  them  by  making 
explorations  into  a  new  country  and  inducing  settlers  to 
remove  hither.  The  trend  was  westward,  following  the 
Indian  wars,  and  in  this  great  movement  he  had  no  de- 
sire to  be  a  laggard.  For  all  that  Boone  had  he  suffered 
much.  While  in  captivity  by  the  Indians  he  was  in  im- 
minent danger  of  death  many  times.  His  firstborn, 
James,  was  slain  at  the  early  age  of  seventeen  in  an  In- 
dian massacre.  When  he  led  the  party  of  men  who  built 
the  "AVilderness  Road,"  it  was  at  the  risk  of  his  life 
daily,  but  he  saw  a  great  territory  opening  to  humani- 
ty and  for  the  benefit  of  mankind.  It  was  his  nerve  that 
kept  the  road  going.  After  two  deaths  from  an  Indian 


16  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

attack,  many  begged  Boone  to  return  before  others  met 
a  similar  fate.  But  he  would  not.  Quoting  from  "Dan- 
iel Boone  and  the  Wilderness  Road,"  by  H.  A.  Bruce, 
from  which  much  information  herein  is  gleaned,  we  have 
the  following  from  Felix  Walker's  (one  of  the  company) 
comment  on  Boone 's  management  of  the  expedition: 

"In  the  sequel  and  conclusion  of  my  narrative  I  must 
not  neglect  to  give  honor  to  whom  honor  is  due.  Colonel 
Boone  conducted  the  company  under  his  care  through 
the  wilderness  with  great  propriety,  intrepidity,  and 
courage;  and  were  I  to  enter  an  exception  to  any  part  of 
his  conduct,  it  would  be  on  the  ground  that  he  appeared 
void  of  fear  and  of  consequences — too  little  caution  for 
the  enterprise.  But  let  me  with  feeling,  recollection,  and 
lasting  gratitude  ever  remember  the  unremitting  kind- 
ness, sympathy,  and  attention  paid  to  me  by  Colonel 
Boone  in  my  distress.  He  was  my  father,  my  physician, 
and  friend;  he  attended  me  as  his  child,  cured  my  wounds 
by  the  use  of  medicines  from  the  woods,  nursed  me  with 
paternal  affection  until  I  recovered,  without  the  expecta- 
tion of  reward." 

E  have  also  said  that  Boone  was  a  poet.  That  you  may 
bo  satisfied,  let  me  give  here  his  words  on  some  occasions 
as  handed  down  to  us  by  those  who  were  with  him  and 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  17 

who  have  come  after  them.  When  he  visited  the  Ten- 
nessee country  in  1764,  he  is  reported  to  have  cried,  while 
gazing  from  a  Cumberland  Mountain  peak  at  a  herd  of 
buffalo  grazing  below:  "I  am  richer  than  the  man  men- 
tioned in  scripture  who  owned  the  cattle  on  a  thousand 
hills;  I  own  the  wild  beasts  of  more  than  a  thousand  val- 
leys." Then  as  they  went  into  the  Kentucky  regions 
he  spoke  in  a  rhapsody  of  enthusiasm :  ' '  One  day  I  under- 
took a  tour  through  the  country,  and  the  diversity  and 
beauties  of  nature  I  met  with  .  .  .  expelled  every 
gloomy  and  vexatious  thought.  Just  at  the  close  of  day 
the  gentle  gales  retired  and  left  the  place  to  the  disposal 
of  a  profound  calm.  Not  a  breeze  shook  the  most  trem- 
ulous leaf.  1  had  gained  the  summit  of  a  commanding 
ridge  and,  looking  round  with  astonishing  delight,  be- 
held the  ample  plains,  the  beauteous  tracts  below.  On 
the  other  hand  I  surveyed  the  famous  river  Ohio  that 
rolled  in  silent  dignity,  marking  th*  western  boundary 
of  Kentucky  with  inconceivable  grandeur.  At  a  vast 
distance  I  beheld  the  mountains  lift  their  venerable 
brows  and  penetrate  the  clouds." 

That  he  was  lonely  and  often  sighed  for  the  pleasures 
of  his  own  fireside  is  revealed  in  the  following  words 
spoken  to  one  Filson:  "I  confess  I  never  before  was 

2 


1.8  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

under  greater  necessity  of  exercising  philosophy  and  for- 
titude. A  few  days  I  passed  uncomfortably.  The  idea 
of  a  beloved  wife  and  family,  and  their  anxiety  upon 
the  account  of  my  absence  and  exposed  situation,  made 
sensible  impressions  on  my  heart.  A  thousand  dreadful 
apprehensions  presented  themselves  to  my  view,  and  had 
undoubtedly  disposed  me  to  melancholy  if  further  in- 
dulged." 

Boone  had  an  indomitable  will  and  was  a  strong  lover 
of  nature.  It  was  now  Maytime  in  the  beautiful  Ken- 
tucky woods  and  he  became  reconciled. 

If  further  proof  were  needed  of  his  being  a  statesman 
and  a  poet,  let  me  say  that  no  man  could  lead  the  men 
he  led  in  such  an  inspirational  and  enthusiastic  way  with- 
out having  the  qualities  of  both.  When  his  life  went 
out  in  the  eighty-sixth  year  of  his  age  in  the  second 
decade  of  the  nineteenth  century,  his  spirit  did  not  de- 
part, but  remained  as  a  beacon-light  to  others  who  de- 
sired to  build  roads  through  the  wilderness  of  the  far 
West  and  elsewhere.  Whole  pages  could  be  written 
about  Boone  as  a  lawmaker.  But  they  must  be  left  for 
another  time. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 


19 


ALWAYS  A  WINNER 

You  and  I  know  a  great  many  people  who  are  very 
attractive  to  us  and  whom  we  like  very  much.  Some  of 
them  are  handsome  and  rich  and  what  the  world  calls 
successful;  others  are  lacking  in  the  finer  qualities  that 


JOHN  SEVIER 
The  First  Governor  of  Tennessee 

make  for  fame  and  fortune  and  success,  yet  we  like  them 
very  much,  too. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  little  about  a  great  man  who 
always  won.  But  it  was  not  always  easy  for  him.  Now 
and  then  he  was  near  losing,  and  at  times,  no  doubt, 


20  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

was  in  the  act  of  giving  up.  The  fact  that  he  never  did 
give  up  caused  him  to  win. 

This  hero  of  mine  was  born  in  old  Virginia  not  many 
years  after  the  birth  of  "The  Father  of  His  Country." 
As  a  boy  he  loved  the  folklore  stories  of  his  surround- 
ings in  much  the  same  way  that  you  and  I  love  fairy 
stories,  the  myths  of  Greece  and  Kome,  the  Siegfried 
stories  of  the  Irish  sagas;  only  he  did  not  read  them  in 
books  as  we  do,  but  had  them  told  to  him  by  his  par- 
ents and  old  people  who  lived  near  him.  They  were 
hero  stories  of  what  men  had  done  with  animals  and  fish 
and  in  fighting  the  dangerous  red  men  of  that  time. 
Moreover,  many  of  them  were  thrilling  stories  of  real 
Indians,  or  red  men,  and  they  fired  the  blood  of  this  hand- 
some boy  until  he  wanted  to  go  out  and  do  some  great 
tiling;  only  as  he  grew  older  he  became  ambitious  to  fight 
that  he  might  do  good  instead  of  just  for  fame  and  for- 
tune and  the  high  honor  that  success  would  bring. 

Our  boy  wrent  into  a  new  country  which  is  now  Ten- 
nessee. He  met  many  people  who  had  come  into  these 
old  mountains — old  to  the  world  of  mountains,  but  new 
to  the  world  of  men  and  women.  The  new  i)eople  with 
whom  be  became  acquainted  had  come  from  other  sec- 
tions of  the  country  to  find  more  room  and  larger  fields 


21 

for  their  flocks  and  herds  and  also  to  establish  homes 
for  their  children.  Some  of  them  had  come  because  they 
had  been  driven  out  of  their  former  homes  by  the  sol- 
diers of  the  King  of  England,  who  was  at  that  time  in 
possession  of  all  this  country  by  right  of  discovery  and 
force,  but  not  altogether  by  right  of  law.  They  came 
seeking  liberty  and  freedom  and  opportunity.  The  great 
mountains  seemed  to  breathe  into  them  the  spirit  of  lib- 
erty and  freedom  and  independence.  The  running 
streams  sang  a  song  of  freedom;  the  hills  took  up  the 
echo  until  every  inhabitant  made  it  the  great  battle  cry. 
The  scenery  is  not  unlike  that  in  Scotland  which  gave 
such  inspiration  to  Wallace  and  Bruce  and  of  which  Sir 
Walter  Scott  wrote  with  such  charming  interest  in  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake,  The  Bride  of  Lammermoor,  and  kin- 
dred stories.  No  man  could  live  among  such  surround- 
ings and  not  have  the  spirit  of  freedom. 

One  day  they  brought  the  news  that  the  Indians  were 
planning  an  attack  on  a  fort  occupied  by  the  white  peo- 
ple, who  had  gathered  therein  for  protection.  There  was 
much  alarm,  and  all  turned  to  the  handsome  young  Vir- 
ginian for  leadership.  Some  women  were  outside  the 
barracks  milking  when  the  shrewd  and  fearless  Indians 
sought  to  take  the  fort.  Among  these  women  was  a 


22  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

young  and  beautiful  girl  afterwards  known  to  lovers  of 
historical  romance  as  "Bonny  Kate"  Sherrill.  And  she 
was  every  whit  as  attractive  as  the  fair  Eleanor  in  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake.  The  Indian  braves  seemed  to  have 
her  in  their  cruel  grasp.  But  when  all  appeared  to  be 
lost,  our  young  friend  leaped  to  the  top  of  the  barricade 
and  rescued  her  from  almost  instant  death.  He  was  the 
James  Fitz- James  of  the  fine  pastoral  by  Scotland's  great- 
bard.  This  one  act  of  our  hero  placed  him  high  in  the 
estimation  of  those  who  love  the  brave  and  the  good  and 
the  noble.  You  are  not  surprised  that  soon  "Bonny  Kate" 
became  his  fair  and  blushing  bride,  and  that  thereafter 
she  shared  his  life  of  adventure  and  hardship,  to  which 
were  added  many  of  his  country's  highest  honors,  not  the 
least  of  which  was  being  six  times  governor  of  a  great 
State,  being  the  first  man  thus  honored  by  the  people  of 
that  commonwealth. 

Doubtless  John  Sevier  (for  it  is  he  of  whom  T  write) 
did  not  count  being  governor  of  Tennessee  the  highest 
honor,  although  any  man  might  count  that  honor  enough. 
Rut  our  hero  was  a.  man  who  counted  honor  that  which 
gave  him  opportunity  for  the  greatest  service. 

A  long  time  after  the  saving  of  "  Ronny  Kate,"  as  boys 
and  girls  count  time,  there  came  an  opportunity  for  great 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  23 

service  of  which  our  handsome  gentleman  took  advan- 
tage. He  was  ambitions  and  energetic,  but  only  that 
he  might  bring  happiness  to  others  and  himself  as  well. 

The  folks  in  this  wild  mountain  country  were  threat- 
ened on  every  side  by  the  king's  soldiers,  who  stood 
afar  and  sent  word  that  they  would  cross  the  mountains 
to  molest  the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  comfortable  cabin 
homes  nestling  snugly  in  the  valleys  and  on  the  hilltops 
of  this  now  famous  land  which  so  many  call  home. 
Word  was  brought  by  a  paroled  prisoner  named  Sam- 
uel Philips  that  unless  these  mountain  people  laid  down 
their  arms  the  British  officer,  Patrick  Ferguson,  would 
march  into  their  country,  lay  waste  their  crops,  burn 
their  houses,  and  hang  their  leaders.  Now  what  would 
you  expect  a  brave  and  fearless  leader  to  do  when  such 
a  message  was  sent  his  people?  Like  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  of  ancient  times,  he  answered  by  going  in  per- 
son at  the  head  of  a  small  number  of  men  who  were  not 
only  used  to  living  in  the  open  and  enduring  the  hard- 
ships of  a  rugged  mountain  life,  but  who  knew  how  to 
.-hoot  as  well,  for  they  captured  meat  for  themselves  and 
families  in  that  way.  They  could  kill  a  squirrel  out  of 
the  top  of  the  highest  tree  you  ever  saw,  or  shoot  a  deer 
running  as  rapidly  as  the  fastest  horse.  What  could 


24  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

such  fine  marksmen  do  in  time  of  battle?  Moreover, 
they  were  helped  in  their  high  endeavor  by  the  thought 
that  if  they  won  it  meant  freedom  forever  for  them  and 
their  children,  but  if  they  lost  it  meant  long,  long  years 
of  struggle,  with  the  results  uncertain. 

So  when  this  word  reached  John  Sevier  and  other 
brave  "over-the-mountain"  men,  he  began  to  collect  these 
old  squirrel  and  bear  and  deer  hunters  for  a  long  march 
over  the  mountains  to'  make  a  last  defense  of  their  homes 
and  hills  and  valleys  and  beautiful  mountain  streams. 
One  fine  September  morning  more  than  a  century  and  a 
quarter  ago  they  were  ready  to  begin  their  perilous 
journey.  While  the  grass  was  yet  fresh  and  glossy  with 
the  dew  of  the  early  morning  they  were  called  to  prayer 
by  Dr.  Samuel  Doak  at  Sycamore  Shoals,  almost  in  sight 
of  where  Gov.  Robert  L.  Taylor  was  born,  in  Carter  Coun- 
ty, Tennessee.  A  native  stone  monument  now  marks 
this  sacred  spot  of  prayer.  With  the  benediction  of  one 
of  God's  best  educators  and  preachers  resting  upon  their 
uncovered  heads,  these  men  of  hope  and  courage  began 
their  onward  march  to  meet  their  avowed  enemy  rather 
than  let  the  enemy  come  for  them.  In  this  they  were 
wise,  for  there  could  be  no  better  battle  ground  for  the 
attacking  party  than  the  side  of  a  mountain  when  moun- 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  25 

taineers  are  the  oppressors.  After  many  days  of  march- 
ing over  high  mountains  and  through  deep  valleys,  our 
friends  came  to  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  pitched  high  up 
on  King's  Mountain.  Colonel  Ferguson  would  not  let  his 
men  surrender,  but  declared  that  even  "the  Almighty 
himself  could  not  drive  him  from  his  position."  Our 
brave  fellows  had  their  faith  pinned  sincerely  to  the  God 
this  profane  British  colonel  thus  defied,  and  went  forth 
to  battle  expecting  victory.  To  their  faith  they  added 
dry  powder,  good  rifles,  and  a  sure  aim.  Ferguson  was 
killed;  his  men,  most  of  them  brave,  were  glad  to  sur- 
render; and  John  Sevier  and  his  companions  in  leader- 
ship and  bravery  won  such  a  victory  as  caused  Thomas 
Jefferson  to  call  it  the  turning  point  in  .the  Revolution- 
ary War,  and  he  thus  paved  the  way  for  the  everlast- 
ing freedom  you  and  I  enjoy.  The  battle  lasted  about 
an  hour. 

When  the  men  were  assembling  to  march  from 
our  own  mountains,  "Bonny  Kate,"  long  since  the  moth- 
er of  several  children,  came  with  her  son,  James,  not  yet 
sixteen  years  of  age,  to  present  him  to  her  brave  hus- 
band, General  Sevier,  with  these  words:  "Here  is  another 
of  our  boys  that  wants  to  go  with  his  father  and 
brother  to  the  war,  but  we  have  no  horse  for 


l'()  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

him,  and,  poor  fellow,  it  is  a  great  distance  to  walk." 
But  the  gallant  lad,  with  an  older  brother,  did  go, 
and  they  fought  side  by  side,  with  their  father  and 
the  other  brave  men  of  the  mountains  in  the  most 
remarkable  battle  of  our  great  war  for  independence — 
a  victory  that  hastened  the  close  of  this  fearful  struggle 
and  moved  up  by  several  years  the  time  when  the  col- 
onies, represented  by  such  men  as  Washington,  Franklin, 
Sevier,  and  others,  could  declare  themselves  in  fact  and 
in  truth  free  and  independent  States. 

When  our  general  returned  from  this  brilliant  victory, 
he  was  much  more  of  a,  hero  than  ever.  He  had  won 
great  glory  in  the  Indian  wars,  and  is  said  never  to  have 
lost  a  battle;  but  now  he  had  taken  a  handful  of  moun- 
tain men,  untrained  in  the  practice  and  experiences  of 
war,  and  won  a  complete  and  glorious  victory  over  the 
trained  and  tried  soldiers  of  the  King  of  England.  How- 
ever, these  Englishmen  did  not  know  how  to  shoot 
straight,  and  that  is  the  one  thing  needful  in  battle  and 
in  hunting.  Moreover,  the  mountaineers  \vere  enthusi- 
astic and  believed  in  the  cause  of  liberty  for  which  they 
were  fighting.  There  were  other  great  leaders  in  these 
fights,  but  we  are  now  talking  about  John  Sevier,  the 
gallant  young  Virginian. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  27 

Some  years  after  this  famous  victory,  but  before  the 
colonies  had  become  united,  the  folks  who  lived  in  the 
beautiful  mountain  fastness  known  as  East  Tennes- 
see became  fearful  of  their  future.  They  thought 
the  Continental  government  as  it  then  existed  was 
not  giving  them  the  support  and  protection  they 
deserved;  hence  they  looked  about  to  find  some 
means  of  providing  these  tilings  for  themselves.  They 
thought  a  permanent  organization  would  solve  all  their 
problems.  Likewise  they  felt  that  their  mountains  and 
valleys  and  running  streams  placed  them  in  a  class  to 
themselves  peculiar  only  to  their  own  needs  and  desires. 
It  was  the  world-old  cry  of  liberty  found  ever  and  al- 
ways in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  people  who  live  among 
the  mountains  and  who  breathe  the  free,  pure  air  and 
sniff  the  life-giving  mist  of  the  sparkling  brooklet  as  it 
goes  coursing  its  adventurous  way  to  the  far-off  seas. 
Read  the  story  of  William  Tell,  The  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
or  Scottish  Chiefs,  and  you  will  see  how  the  people  of 
the  mountains  love  freedom  even  better  than  life  itself. 

So  when  representatives  met  to  form  a  new  State  and 
find  a  governor  therefor,  with  one  accord  their  minds 
turned  to  the  man  whose  every  act  had  made  him  a  hero 
in  the  thoughts  of  the  people,  and  whose  ideals  of  law 


28  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

and  order  and  government  had  caused  men  high  up  in 
the  affairs  of  life  to  recognize  in  him  great  qualities  of 
statesmanship.  Moreover,  every  one  had  the  utmost 
faith  in  him  as  a  man,  not  only  of  courage  and  stead- 
fastness of  purpose,  but  also  of  fidelity  and  truthfulness. 
They  were  about  to  call  their  new  State  "Frankland," 
which  really  means  "the  land  of  the  free,"  or  "free 
land."  Thus  you  see  every  act  of  these  rugged  people 
was  turned  toward  freedom  in  its  highest  and  noblest 
form.  When  General  Sevier  was  asked  to  become  gov- 
ernor of  this  new  State,  he  did  so  with  great  hesitation, 
for  he  felt  that  sooner  or  later  the  right  sort  of  united 
government  for  all  the  colonies  would  be  agreed  upon 
and  that  in  due  time  these  liberty-loving  mountaineers 
would  be  properly  protected  and  wisely  cared  for.  But 
he  could  not  resist  the  call  of  the  men  who  had  followed 
him  over  hundreds  of  miles  of  rough,  ungraded  moun- 
tain roads  to  suppress  the  Indians,  defeat  the  redcoats 
at  King's  Mountain,  and  make  possible  the  existence  of 
a  new  world  the  like  of  which  history  does  not  record. 
And  he  could  not  say  them  nay.  It  was  like  a  call  from  his 
own  kith  and  kin,  and  he  must  not  fail  them.  For  al- 
most three  years  he  guided  with  a  wise  head  and  steady 
hand  the  new  State  of  Frankland,  sometimes  called 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  29 

''Franklin;"  and  when  it  seemed  best  to  dissolve  this 
State,  for  reasons  not  necessary  to  give  here,  and  a.gain 
become  one  with  the  colonies,  he  did  so  in  the  best  pos- 
sible way,  and  was,  as  always,  true  and  loyal  to  every 
interest  of  the  colonies  and  of  the  men  who  were  leaders 
therein. 

Too  much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  the  people  who 
formed  the  State  of  Frankland.  The  descendants  of 
many  of  them  live  among  the  Southern  mountains  to- 
day, bearing  the  same  names  as  did  their  ancestors,  fos- 
tering a  spirit  of  freedom  and  liberty  and  independence 
second  to  no  people  in  the  world.  Some  of  them  have 
gone  out  into  other  parts  of  the  world  and  made  great 
names  for  themselves  in  the  field  of  law,  statesmanship, 
theology,  medicine,  mechanical  and  industrial  arts,  and 
education,  and  in  all  vocations  known  to  mankind. 

T  think  if  General  Sevier  could  talk  to  us  now,  he  would 
be  prouder  of  his  part  in  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain 
and  the  governorship  of  the  State  of  Frankland  than  any 
two  things  he  did  during  his  long  and  useful  life  filled 
with  remarkable  deeds  of  heroism. 

There  is  another  incident  in  the  life  of  John  Sevier 
which  I  think  will  interest  you  as  boys  and  girls  and 
also  as  men  and  women.  Like  all  great  and  good  men, 


30  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

lie  had  some  enemies  who  sought  to  do  him  harm  in  sev- 
eral ways.  They  caused  him  to  be  arrested  and  carried 
across  the  mountains  to  be  confined  and  taken  away  from 
his  beautiful  home  and  the  freedom  he  loved  so  well. 
Nothing  could  be  more  humiliating  to  a  man  of  Sevier's 
temperament,  impetuous  disposition  and  independent 
spirit  and  bearing,  who  was  calm  in  danger  and  brave 
when  needed,  than  to  be  placed  in  charge  of  men  whose 
duty  it  was  to  see  that  his  privi  leges  were  restricted. 
But  the  men  of  the  mountains  with  whom  he  had  shared 
every  danger  were  not  content  to  let  him  thus  suffer 
humiliation,  and  immediately  set  about  ways  and  means 
of  rescue.  General  Sevier  had  been  carried  to  Morgan- 
ton,  in  North  Carolina,  for  trial.  The  story  is  best  told 
by  William  Smith,  one  of  the  rescuers,  and  is  taken  from 
Ramsey's  Annals  of  Tennessee: 

''In  a  luckless  hour  the  puissant  governor  of  the  west- 
ern wilds,  whose  prowess  was  known  and  acknowledged 
from  Watauga  to  the  Chattanooga  Mountain,  was 
seized  by  an  armed  posse  and  conveyed  into  the  settle- 
ments on  a  charge  of  high  treason  against  the  State  of 
North  Carolina.  Had  the  destroying  angel  passed 
through  the  land  and  destroyed  the  firstborn  in  every 
section,  the  feelings  of  the  hardv  frontiersmen  would  not 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  31 

have  been  more  incensed;  had  the  chiefs  and  warriors 
of  the  whole  Cherokee  nation  fallen  upon  and  butchered 
the  defenseless  settlers,  the  feeling  of  retaliation  and  re- 
venge would  not  have  been  more  deeply  awakened  in 
their  bosoms.  They  had  suffered  with  him;  they  had 
fought  under  him;  with  them  he  had  shared  the  dangers 
and  privations  of  a  frontier  life  and  a  savage  warfare, 
and  they  were  not  the  spirits  to  remain  inactive  when 
their  friend  was  in  danger.  The  chivalry  of  the  coun- 
try gathered  together,  a  number  of  men  were  selected 
to  fly  to  the  rescue;  armed  to  the  teeth,  those  dauntless 
sons  of  the  woods  crossed  the  mountains,  determined  to 
rescue  their  beloved  commander  or  leave  their  bones  to 
bleach  upon  the  sandhills  of  North  Carolina,  a  proud  mon- 
ument to  the  children  of  the  A\7est.  It  was  ascertained 
that  the  trial  was  to  take  place  in  Morganton,  and  thither 
this  daring  band  bent  their  eager  steps.  Their  plan  was 
to  obtain  his  release  by  stratagem;  and  if  that  failed,  the 
next  step  was  to  fire  the  town  and  in  the  hurry  and 
confusion  burst  the  prison  doors  by  force  and  make  their 
escape.  Probably  at  no  time  before  had  the  quiet  town 
of  Morganton  assumed  such  an  air  of  excitement  and 
interest  as  the  present;  for  the  fame  of  the  unfortunate 


32  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

prisoner  had  gone  before  him,  and  the  novelty  of  the 
scene  had  drawn  together  a  large  crowd. 

"The  Franks  had  approached  as  near  to  the  town  as 
they  deemed  it  prudent,  where  four  of  them  concealed 
themselves  near  the  road,  while  two  of  their  number, 
James  Cozby  and  Nathaniel  Evans,  went  forward  into 
the  town.  They  rode  to  a  convenient  distance  from  the 
courthouse,  tied  their  horses  to  a  limb  of  a  tree,  near  to 
which  they  hid  their  rifles,  and  boldly  entered  the  town, 
their  capacious  hunting  shirts  concealing  the  side  arms 
they  had  prepared  in  case  of  need.  Soon  they  had  min- 
gled with  the  crowd  and  easily  passed  off  for  countrymen 
attracted  there  by  common  curiosity.  Evans  had  taken 
charge  of  General  Sevier's  celebrated  race  mare  and  led 
her  up  in  front  of  the  courthouse  door,  the  bridle  care- 
lessly thrown  over  her  head;  he  was  apparently  an  un- 
concerned spectator  of  passing  events.  Cozby  entered  the 
house,  and  there,  arraigned  at  the  bar,  sat  the  object 
of  their  solicitude;  there  he  sat,  as  firm  and  undaunted 
as  when  charging  the  hosts  of  Wyuca  on  the  Lookout 
Mountain. 

"Slowly  he  turned  his  head  and  their  eyes  met.  Sevier 
knew  the  rescue  was  at  hand,  but  he  was  restrained 
from  any  outward  demonstration  by  a  significant  shake 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  33 

of  Cozby's  head;  but  it  could  not  prevent  the  tear  of 
gratitude,  for  he  knew  there  were  daring  spirits  near 
that  would  peril  their  lifeblood  in  his  defense.  During  a 
pause  in  the  trial  Cozby  stepped  forward  in  front  of 
the  judge  and  in  that  quick  and  energetic  tone  so  pe- 
culiar to  him  asked  the  judge  if  he  was  done  with  that 
man.  The  question,  manner,  and  tone  caused  every  per- 
son to  start,  to  cast  their  eyes  on  the  speaker,  then  on 
the  judge,  all  in  amazement.  In  the  meantime  Sevier 
had  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  favorite  mare  standing  at 
the  door;  taking  advantage  of  the  confusion,  he  made  one 
spring  to  the  door,  the  next  he  was  safely  in  the  saddle, 
and  with  the  speed  of  thought  was  borne  from  the  won- 
dering crowd.  'Yes,'  cried  a  waggish  voice,  'I'll  be 
damned  if  you  ain't  done  with  him.'  His  comrades  were 
not  slow  to  follow  in  his  wake,  and,  although  immediate 
pursuit  was  made,  a  few  minutes  brought  him  to  the 
main  body,  who,  with  one  wild  shout  of  victory,  closed 
in  the  rear  and  bore  him  on  in  triumph.  That  night 
they  rested  at  the  house  of  a  friend  about  twenty  miles 
distant,  from  whence  they  made  an  easy  journey  to  their 
homes,  content  that  they  had  gained  a  bloodless  victory." 
Every  one  likes  to  read  the  story  of  Sevier 's  escape 
on  his  favorite  racing  mare  known  throughout  the  coun- 


34  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

try  for  her  speed  and  endurance.  Imagine  her  going  at 
a  break-neck  rate  over  hills  and  mountains  and  through 
valleys  and  caves,  paying  no  attention  to  streams  or 
ditches  until  she  should  deliver  her  beloved  master  out 
of  danger's  reach,  safe  in  the  cliffs  of  the  mountains  he 
called  home  and  which  claimed  him  for  their  very  own. 

You  are  not  surprised  that  when  the  whole  of  Ten- 
nessee, from  the  Father  of  Waters  to  the  snow-capped 
mountains,  became  one  State  by  the  signature  of  Presi- 
dent Washington  on  June  1,  1796,  the  men  who  had  fol- 
lowed our  hero  from  one  victory  to  another,  and  under 
his  great  leadership  had  never  lost  a  battle,  arose  as  one 
man  and  made  him  their  first  governor. 

He  lived  threescore  years  and  ten,  the  scriptural  time 
allotted  to  man.  For  three  quarters  of  a  century  his 
ashes  rested  in  the  State  of  Alabama,  where  he  died  while 
on  business  for  the  Federal  government.  During  an  ad- 
ministration of  Governor  Taylor  all  that  was  left  mortal 
of  this  great  and  good  man  was  deposited  in  the  court- 
house yard  in  Knoxville  and  a  monument  erected,  the 
inscription  upon  which  tells  briefly  the  story  of  this  hero 
who  always  won. 

While  East  Tennessee  is  justly  proud  of  this  distin- 
guished hero  of  many  battles,  the  other  divisions  of  the 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  35 

State  likewise  take  great  pride  in  him  and  are  always 
glad  to  claim  as  their  own  a  man  who  has  added  so  much 
glory  and  valor  to  the  fair  name  of  Tennessee. 

The  last  paragraph  of  Phelan's  History  of  Tennessee 
no  doubt  expresses  better  than  anything  else  the  real 
feeling  of  those  who  live  in  a  State  which  has  such  a  glo- 
rious and  noble  history  (page  233) : 

"It  is  no  wonder  that  Tennesseans  wherever  they  go 
are  noted  for  their  pride  in  their  State,  and  that  the  in- 
habitants of  other  States  sometimes  say  that  'a  Tennes- 
sean  pities  people  who  do  not  live  in  Tennessee. '  When- 
ever a  Tennessean  speaks  of  his  State,  it  is  after  the  fash- 
ion of  an  eloquent  son  of  Tennessee,  Williams  H.  Ste- 
phens, who  once  said:  'I  speak  for  that  heroic  State  who 
was  baptized  in  her  infancy  with  the  sprinkling  of  Rev- 
olutionary blood  on  King's  Mountain;  who,  five  years 
afterwards  struck  again  for  independence  under  the  ban- 
ner of  the  daring  young  State  of  Franklin;  who  grap- 
pled, single-handed  and  alone,  for  fifty  years  with  the 
dusky  warriors  of  the  forest  in  all  their  battles  from  the 
Kentucky  line  to  the  Southern  gulf;  who  beat  back  the 
British  legions  at  New  Orleans;  who  smote  the  false 
Spaniard  at  Pensacola;  who  rushed  with  Taylor  into  the 
breach  at  Monterey,  and  shared  in  the  triumphal  march 
from  Vera  Cruz  to  Mexico. '  ' ' 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  37 


"THE  IRON  MAN' 

One  fine  morning  down  in  the  Carol inas,  wliere  the 
magnolias  bloom  and  where  the  air  is  all  laden  with  the 
fragrance  of  wild  jasmine,  thyme,  and  tulips,  and  where 
the  soft  hreezes  from  the  rose-scented  gardens  of  rich 
and  rare  old  homes  of  splendor  waft  their  zephyr  waves 
far  over  the  broad  fields  and  deep  into  the  lowland 
swamps,  a  little  boy  suddenly  found  himself  getting  up 
from  a  very  hard  fall  in  which  he  was  apparently  much 
the  worse  for  being  in  the  middle  of  a  bad  fix.  He  was  a 
slender  lad,  with  clear,  gray  eyes,  and  shocky  hair  that 
grew  straight  up,  it  seemed;  his  face  was  rough,  but 
rugged  and  honest.  He  looked  both  like  an  Irishman 
and  a  Scotchman,  and  indeed  he  was  both. 

But  you  are  wondering  why  our  boy  had  such  a  sudden 
fall  and  how  he  came  out  of  it,  for  his  face  showed  rage 
and  fiery  sparks  almost  darted  from  his  piercing  eyes 
as  lie  brushed  the  dust  from  his  face,  while  a  little  stream 
of  rich  red  blood  trickled  hurriedly  down  his  cheek 
from  a  tiny  wound  over  his  right  eye.  And  now  I  must 
tell  you  about  it. 

In  those  days  the  people  of  this  country  were  in  a  life- 

447984 


ANDREW  JACKSON 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  39 

and-death  struggle  for  freedom  and  independence  of  the 
mother  country,  England.  In  the  South  the  king's 
troops  had  wellnigh  taken  possession  of  everything  and 
everybody,  for  a  great  many  of  the  people  were  Tories, 
or  British  sympathizers,  anyway.  His  Majesty's  soldiers 
had  no  regard  for  any  people  who  did  not  belong  to  their 
side  of  the  contention  unless  they  were  rich  and  pow- 
erful enough  to  command  respect  and  consideration. 
The  soldiers  in  their  travels  would  often  pick  up  boys 
and  carry  them  along  to  do  their  odd  jobs,  such  as  cur- 
rying the  horses,  fetching  water,  building  fires,  clean- 
ing boots,  polishing  saddles,  and  such  other  chores  as  the 
soldiers  did  not  wish  to  do  themselves.  In  fact,  they 
liked  to  be  regarded  as  gentlemen  of  leisure  living  in 
the  enemy's  country,  feasting  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  with 
servants  to  do  for  them  even  the  smallest  thing.  So 
they  had  picked  up  this  shocky-headed  boy  and  thought 
to  make  of  him  a  runner  of  errands  and  a  sort  of  lackey 
for  all.  His  clothing  showed  him  to  be  very  poor,  and 
everything  about  him  indicated  the  direst  sort  of  pover- 
ty and  need  and  dependence.  The  captain  to  whose  com- 
pany this  boy  had  been  attached  the  day  before  arose 
this  fine  morning  of  which  I  speak  and  found  himself  in 
need  of  a  servant.  Our  boy  was  called  and  ordered  to 


40  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

clean  his  captain's  boots  and  polish  his  saddle.  But  the 
young  fellow,  only  twelve  years  of  age  though  he  was. 
said:  "A  Continental  will  not  black  the  boots  of  a  red- 
coat!" And  there  was  fire  in  his  eyes  when  he  said  it. 
The  British  captain,  enraged  at  this  lack  of  obedience 
and  spirit  of  rebellion  in  one  so  young  and  evidently  so 
poor,  threw  his  boot  at  the  youngster,  with  the  results 
described  in  the  opening  words  of  this  story.  From  the 
very  beginning  of  our  war  for  independence,  the  Brit- 
ishers, from  privates  in  the  ranks  to  generals  in  com- 
mand of  armies,  were  surprised  at  the  independent  spir- 
it shown  by  all  classes  of  true  Americans.  No  British 
captain  could  understand  how  a  boy  like  our  hero  could 
show  such  bravery.  But  of  course  the  captain  called 
it  impudence  and  insolence.  It  was  the  last  time  he  shied 
a  boot  at  this  boy.  Realizing  that  brute  strength  and 
numbers  were  against  him,  he  felt  that  his  only  chance  lay 
in  running  away,  which  he  promptly  did,  suffering  many 
hardships  in  the  form  of  hunger,  night  sleeping  places, 
and  constant  fear  as  he  sought  in  every  way  he  knew 
or  could  imagine  to  avoid  detection  and  possible  recap- 
ture at  the  hands  of  his  hated  and  dreaded  foe.  But  this 
tyrannical  and  overbearing  captain  never  saw  the 
youngster  again.  The  boy  set  his  face  like  hard  steel 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  41 

against  his  enemy  and  the  enemies  of  his  country.  He 
resolved  that  if  ever  the  chance  came  he  would  do  his 
country  a  service  in  the  largest  way  possible.  So  this 
is  your  introduction  to  Andrew  Jackson,  who  came  to 
be  one  of  our  greatest  men,  as  you  will  see. 

You  do  not  need  to  know  ail  the  struggles  this  boy 
had  and  what  hardships  were  his.  He  became  what  was 
known  in  those  days  as  a  "bound  boy;"  that  is, 
he  bound  himself  to  a  man  who  agreed  to  keep 
him  in  food  and  clothing  and  the  other  necessities  of 
life  for  what  work  the  boy  would  be  able  to  do  on  the 
farm  and  about  the  house.  He  managed  to  gather  a  very 
meager  education,  such  as  reading  and  writing,  anrl  a 
little  spelling  and  arithmetic.  He  wrote  poorly,  spelled 
poorly,  and  knew  but  little  mathematics.  However,  he 
did  learn  to  read  very  well  indeed,  because  he  enjoyed 
that.  Haven't  you  noticed  how  much  easier  it  is  for 
you  to  do  or  learn  to  do  that  which  you  enjoy,  and  that  no 
task  or  work  is  ever  difficult  so  long  as  you  do  enjoy 
it!  So  this  boy  became  a  very  great  reader.  He  read 
everything  he  could  buy,  which  was  not  a  great  deal, 
but  he  was  able  to  borrow  many  books  which  he  devoured 
in  the  most  rapid  manner.  One  thing  about  this  boy  An- 
drew, he  seemed  to  remember  the  most  important  things 


42  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

he  read.  As  lie  grew  into  young  manhood  he  developed 
an  ambition  to  be  a  lawyer.  By  the  way,  this  was  the 
ambition  of  many  young  men  in  those  days.  They  had 
such  fine  examples  to  inspire  them.  There  was  Alex- 
ander Hamilton,  our  first  Secretary  of  the  United  States 
Treasury;  Thomas  Jefferson,  who  wrote  the  Declaration 
of  Independence;  and  John  Marshall,  the  first  Chief  Jus- 
tice of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States. 
All  of  these  were  very  inspiring  to  a  young  Scotch- 
Irishman  such  as  we  are  describing.  In  those 
days  law  was  not  studied  as  it  is  now — in  a 
college  of  law;  but  various  books  on  law  were 
read  either  at  home  or  in  the  office  of  some  other  law- 
yer who  was  willing  to  take  in  a  young  fellow  and  give 
him  the  privilege  of  his  law  library,  together  with  what- 
ever experience  he  might  get.  But  our  youngster  did 
quite  a  deal  of  other  reading.  Like  many  another  man 
of  promise  and  great  ability,  he  had  heard  of  a  land 
across  the  mountains  which  was  full  of  interest  and  which 
afforded  great  opportunity  for  those  beginning  their 
careers  in  the  law  or  other  professions.  So  he  journeyed 
across  the  rough  and  rugged  Carolina  mountains  until 
he  came  to  Jonesboro,  the  oldest  town  in  Tennessee.  He 
was  now  very  handsome,  more  than  six  feet  in  height, 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  43 

sat  on  his  horse  as  if  he  had  grown  to  the  saddle,  was 
very  fond  of  a  good  traveler,  and  rode  only  the  best.  He 
presented  a  very  distinguished  appearance  on  horseback, 
quite  as  much  so  as  did  General  Washington,  of  whom 
you  have  read  a  great  deal.  He  practiced  law  in  the 
courts  of  North  Carolina,  of  which  our  own  Tennessee  was 
at  that  time  a  part.  He  was  fond  of  outdoor  sports— 
particularly  horse  racing,  a  thing  very  common  in  those 
days.  I  said  he  read  a  great  many  books  outside  of  law. 
He  was  particularly  fond  of  the  works  of  Lord  Francis 
Bacon,  a  great  English  writer  who  lived  in  the  time  of 
William  Shakespeare,  more  than  three  hundred  years 
ago.  Lord  Bacon  was  so  great  a  scholar  that  he  tried 
to  master  all  learning  that  he  might  have  a  knowledge 
of  all  things.  Bacon  wrote  a  series  of  articles  called 
"Essays,"  from  which  our  friend  frequently  quoted  in  the 
midst  of  a  speech  before  the  court.  He  carried  his  books  in 
saddlebags  swinging  across  his  horse,  as  nearly  all  the 
lawyers  did  in  those  days.  It  is  said  that  on  a  certain 
occasion  when  it  was  known  our  friend  would  speak  be- 
fore the  court  the  day  following,  a  fun-loving  admirer 
slipped  a  piece  of  real  bacon  into  the  saddlebags  wrapped 
in  the  very  same  paper  that  had  contained  Bacon's  Es- 
says; so  that  when  our  friend  came  to  argue  his  case  be- 


44  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

fore  the  court  the  next  day  he  said:  "Now  we  will  see 
what  Bacon  says  about  this."  Proceeding  to  unwrap 
the  supposed  book,  the  piece  of  real  bacon  dropped  out 
on  the  floor  amidst  the  tremendous  laughter  of  all  pres- 
ent, including  young  Jackson  himself. 

While  he  enjoyed  jokes  and  pranks  and  everything 
of  that  sort,  he  did  not  lose  sight  of  his  reading  nor  of 
his  law  study  and  practice.  He  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  leaders  of  the  new  nation,  and  they  appointed  him 
an  attorney-general.  This  gave  him  much  fame  and 
added  to  his  popularity.  In  the  meantime  several  wars 
had  come  up  between  the  white  settlers  and  the  Indians 
in  which  he  had  taken  part,  and  always  as  a  leader.  He 
was  fearless  and  dashing  in  his  make-up  and  every  one 
seemed  to  look  to  him  to  do  the  next  thing.  He  led  the 
white  soldiers  to  victory  over  the  Indians  many  times 
when  defeat  seemed  to  be  staring  them  in  the  face.  His 
own  personal  bearing  inspired  his  followers  with  a  de- 
termination to  win  at  any  cost  to  themselves.  He  had 
such  wonderful  control  over  himself  that  he  could  work 
when  he  was  lazy,  go  right  on  when  he  was  tired,  over- 
come illness,  and  even  ride  and  fight  in  battle  when  suf- 
fering from  gunshot  wounds  of  a  serious  nature.  More- 
over, he  never  permitted  himself  to  turn  back  when  he 


46  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

had  started  to  do  a  thing,  or  to  be  influenced  by  others 
to  change  his  raind  or  sway  him  from  that  which  he 
deemed  wise  and  right  and  for  the  good  of  the  greatest 
number  of  people.  Because  he  was  so  strong-willed  and 
such  a  complete  master  of  himself  I  have  called  him  "The 
Iron  Man. ' ' 

Of  course,  a  man  of  such  fiery  temperament  would 
naturally  make  many  personal  enemies,  especially  since 
he  was  in  politics ;  and  no  leader  of  men  in  his  day  could 
keep  out  of  politics.  He  was  severely  criticized  for  many 
of  his  policies  by  some  of  the  leading  men  of  that  day, 
among  them  John  Sevier,  of  whom  you  know;  Thomas 
H.  Benton,  for  whom  both  a  county  and  a  town  in  Ten- 
nessee are  named;  and  by  General  Dickinson.  In  those 
days  the  only  way  to  settle  a  dispute  or  criticism  was  by 
personal  encounter  in  a  duel.  This  was  called  the  "code 
of  honor."  Long  since  men  have  learned  that  it  takes 
more  courage  to  say  "No"  to  a  challenge  than  it  does 
to  fight.  So  our  friend  immediately  challenged  his  ene- 
mies to  a  duel.  Friends  prevented  a  personal  encounter 
with  Sevier;  but  the  duel  was  fought  with  Benton,  who 
was  severely  wounded,  carrying  the  bullet  to  his  grave. 
General  Dickinson  was  an  expert  with  pistols,  and  our 
friend  was  known  to  be  a  careless  marksman,  for  whom 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  47 

his  friends  greatly  feared.  On  the  way  to  the  dueling 
ground  the  General  amused  himself  by  clipping  twigs  off 
the  trees,  hitting  certain  marks  as  his  horse  galloped, 
and  performing  other  marvelous  feats  with  pistols.  But 
the  race  has  never  been  to  the  swift,  nor  the  victory  to 
the  expert.  At  sunrise  the  contestants  met.  Our  friend, 
who  was  somewhat  tall  and  spare,  wore  a  large,  loose- 
fitting  coat.  When  the  word  was  given  to  "fire,"  Gen- 
eral Dickinson  quickly  discharged  his  revolver  and  was 
surprised  that  our  hero  did  not  fall.  The  General, 
shocked  into  fright,  took  a  step  or  two  backward  as  if 
to  retreat,  but  his  second  made  him  take  his  place  again, 
whereupon  our  hero  took  deliberate  aim  and  wounded 
the  General  so  desperately  that  he  died  that  night.  Our 
hero  did  not  escape  so  fortunately  as  he  appeared,  for 
when  he  walked  out  of  sight  behind  a  clump  of  bushes 
he  displayed  blood-stained  garments  from  a  severe  wound 
which  kept  him  abed  some  months.  His  great  pride  and 
magnificent  iron  will  would  not  let  him  make  known  suf- 
fering in  the  presence  of  an  enemy. 

Now  we  come  to  the  second  war  between  this  coun- 
try and  Great  Britain,  in  which  our  hero  was  to  play  an 
important  part.  Already  he  had  won  much  fame  in  the 
Indian  wars  and  in  his  duels  with  men  of  distinction, 


48  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

so  much  so  that  he  was  a  popular  idol  and  worshiped 
as  such  by  the  people  wherever  he  was  known.  The 
President  of  the  United  States  sent  word  to  this  lawyer, 
warrior,  political  leader,  that  he  was  needed  to  thwart 
the  American  foe  in  the  South,  and  the  whole  people  re- 
joiced, for  they  felt  that  the  country's  honor  was  in  safe 
hands.  Our  hero  now  wore  the  shoulder  straps  of  a  gen- 
eral, and  he  was  to  be  sent  to  the  defense  of  New  Or- 
leans. He  immediately  gathered  about  him  six  thou- 
sand mountaineer  riflemen  from  Kentucky  and  Tennes- 
see, many  of  whom  had  followed  him  to  victory  against 
the  Creeks  at  Horseshoe  Bend,  and  others  who  had  been 
with  him  when  he  smote  the  false  Spaniard  at  Pensacola. 
They  followed  him  with  much  eagerness  now  because  vic- 
tory was  in  the  air  and  they  knew  it. 

Tt  is  said  that  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of  New  Orleans, 
our  hero  general  was  riding  about  the  outskirts  of  his 
army  seeing  that  everything  was  in  readiness  for  the 
battle  on  the  following  day,  when  he  met  a  British  sol- 
dier who  had  strayed  too  far  from  his  cam}).  They  en- 
gaged in  conversation  about  prospects.  The  Britisher 
said:  "Our  general  is  Lord  Packenham.  Who  is  yours?" 
To  which  our  hero  made  reply:  "Lord  Jesus  Christ  and 
Gen.  Andrew  Jackson,  and  we'll  whip  the  British  to- 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  49 

morrow."  And  they  did.  He  won  this  battle  in  twen- 
ty-five minutes,  and  only  eight  of  our  men  were  killed, 
while  the  enemy  lost  twenty-six  hundred,  including  their 
general.  But  the  war  had  really  been  over  fourteen  days 
when  this  famous  victory  was  won.  The  treaty  was 
signed  at  Ghent,  in  Belgium,  but  in  those  days  news  trav- 
eled so  slowly  that  it  was  too  late  in  getting  there.  But 
it  made  Jackson  a  national  figure  and  every  one  expected 
him  to  be  President  some  time,  which  high  position  he 
reached  in  1829,  serving  eight  years.  He  was  very  pop- 
ular as  a  President,  although  he  ruled  with  an  iron  hand. 
By  his  prompt  action  in  South  Carolina  in  1832  he  put 
off  the  great  Civil  War  for  almost  a  generation.  Had 
he  not  shown  that  great  spirit  of  independence  as  a  boy 
when  ordered  to  do  a  menial  service  by  a  British 
soldier,  and  had  he  failed  to  maintain  that  high 
spirit  of  independence,  he  would  never  have  been 
the  great  man  he  was.  After  serving  as  an  epoch- 
making  President,  he  retired  to  his  estate  at  The 
Hermitage,  near  Nashville,  Tennessee,  where  he  spent 
his  declining  years  amid  peaceful  surroundings,  rich  in 
the  estimation  of  his  country  and  highly  honored  by  the 
nations  of  the  world.  The  end  came  peacefully  in  1845. 
when  he  had  lived  seventy-eight  years.  This  country 
has  produced  no  greater  man. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  51 


THE  HUNTER  HERO 

While  the  gallant  young  Virginian  of  whom  you  have 
just  read  was  having  his  troublous  times  directing  the 
affairs  of  the  independent  State  of  Frankland,  there  was 
born  within  the  confines  of  this  State,  not  far  from  where 
the  Governor  had  his  home,  but  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  Nolachuckey  River  and  in  the  same  county  where 


DAVID  CROCKETT 

was  the  capital  of  this  little  province,  a  boy  who  was  to 
leave  for  years  to  come  his  impress  upon  the  entire  coun- 
try. It  was  in  1786,  on  the  seventeenth  day  of  August, 
that  Davy  Crockett  first  saw  the  light  of  day;  and  the 
place  was  Greene  County,  only  a  few  miles  west  of  where 


52  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

Sevier  lived  in  the  county  of  Washington.  No  doubt 
you  have  noticed  how  most  of  the  counties  in  many  of 
the  States  bear  the  name  of  some  distinguished  hero  of 
the  early  period  of  our  country.  Sevier  has  a  county 
named  for  him,  as  Washington  and  Greene  Counties  are 
named  for  great  men.  Then,  too,  our  hunter  hero  was 
bom  not  much  more  than  a  dozen  miles  from  where  Dan- 
iel Boone  killed  the  bear  of  which  you  are  told  in  an- 
other place  in  this  book.  And  there  are  Boone  and 
Crockett  Counties. 

Davy's  parents  were  poor,  so  poor  that  they  could  not 
send  him  to  school;  hence  he  grew  up  with  but  little 
learning,  but  with  great  knowledge  of  the  woods  and 
fields  and  the  wild  animals  that  roamed  the  almost  un- 
broken forest.  In  those  days  education  seemingly  was 
not  so  necessary  as  it  is  now.  People  lived  mostly  by 
hunting  and  trapping  and  fishing.  They  needed  but  lit- 
tle money;  and  when  they  traded,  they  used  skins  of  ani- 
mals and  powder  and  lead  instead  of  money.  Think  how 
inconvenient  it  must  have  been  to  get  along  without 
money! 

If  you  could  take  a  little  journey  with  me,  I  would 
show  you  where  Davy's  house  stood  and  where  he  was 
born.  Old  people  say  that  for  years  and  years  there  was 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  5;] 

an  old  apple  tree  in  the  yard  of  tlie  old  home  of  this 
boy  who  became  a  famous  man  and  died  a  hero's  death. 
I  have  seen  people  who  ate  apples  from  this  old  tree; 
and  they  were  good  apples,  too.  For  years  a  sheep  barn 
stood  on  a  corner  of  the  Crockett  lot,  and  near  it  was 
a  pile  of  stones  and  charred  earth,  showing-  where  the 
chimney  of  the  old  house  had  been. 

Like  most  people  of  his  day,  Davy  married  young. 
Sometimes  when  you  are  at  Dandridge,  in  Jefferson 
County — 'another  county  bearing  the  name-  of  a  great  man 
-ask  the  county  court  clerk  to  let  you  see  Davy  Crock- 
ett's marriage  license.  You  will  see  that  he  was  mar- 
ried to  Polly  Find  ley  in  l.SOfi  when  he  was  but  twenty 
years  of  age.  Despite  the  fa.ct  that  his  parents  were  poor 
and  without  money,  Davy  had  learned  to  write  as  well 
as  to  hunt  and  to  do  other  things  requiring  skilled  hands 
and  steady  nerves.  He  had  a  native  shrewdness  that 
made  him  know  he  should  be  able  to  write  his  name  if 
nothing  more.  Don't  you  think  that  was  very  fine  in 
him? 

Here  is  a  strange  coincidence  in  the  life  of  Davy 
Crockett.  AVhen  he  was  born,  John  Sevier  was  governor 
of  the  State  of  Frankland,  which  in  the  very  nature  of 
things  could  not  keep  itself  together  for  a  long  while; 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  55 

and  when  he  was  married  to  Polly  Findley,  John  Sevier 
was  governor  of  the  State  of  Tennessee,  which  had  been 
in  existence  just  ten  years,  with  Sevier  as  governor  eight 
out  of  the  ten,  and  he  was  to  remain  in  the  governor's 
chair  four  years  yet. 

But  I  have  told  you  that  Davy  was  a  great  hunter, 
and  now  I  must  tell  you  a  little  about  him  in  that  life 
of  which  he  was  so  very  fond.  In  those  days  there  were 
a  great  many  bears  and  deer  and  other  wild  animals,  but 
not  so  many  of  this  larger  game  as  in  the  days  of  Daniel 
Boone.  However,  there  was  an  abundance  of  smaller 
game,  like  the  coon  and  fox  and  beaver,  all  of  which  were 
interesting  to  the  hunter  even  if  they  were  small.  Davy 
kept  a  large  pack  of  hounds  to  aid  him  in  hunting  the 
fox  and  coon  when  deer  and  bear  could  not  be  found. 
Often  the  chase  was  long,  and  sometimes  they  were  away 
from  home  many  days  at  a  time  in  quest  of  game  of 
all  sorts.  He  grew  to  be  very  skillful  with  his  old-fash- 
ioned long  rifle,  and  could  kill  a  bear  as  far  as  his  eagle 
eye  could  see  to  shoot  or  his  trusty  rifle  would  send  a 
bullet,  which  was  a  long,  long  way.  Aside  from  selling 
the  fur  of  these  animals,  Davy  often  wore  clothing  made 
from  their  skins,  and  he  and  his  neighbors  frequently 
used  their  meat  for  food.  There  is  a  sort  of  fable  that 


56  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

so  dangerous  to  the  animals  of  the  forest  was  Davy 
on  account  of  his  skill  with  his  long  rifle  that  they  came 
to  know  of  him  through  each  other  by  animal  language 
and  were  always  on  the  lookout  for  him.  It  is  said  that 
one  day  an  old,  old  coon  was  high  up  in  a  big  oak  tree 
sunning  himself,  when  some  dogs  "treed"  him.  Soon 
their  master  came  up  and  was  about  to  take  aim  at  the 
coon  with  his  good  rifle,  when  the  o]d  coon  called  out: 
"Is  that  you,  Davy?"  And  when  he  answered,  "Yes," 
the  old  coon  said:  "Don't  shoot,  Mr.  Crockett,  I'll  come 
down;  for  I've  heard  your  gun  never  misses  fire  and 
your  aim  is  sure."  So  the  coon  came  down,  and  Davy 
did  not  have  to  waste  his  powder  and  lead,  but  got  the 
coon  anyway. 

They  tell  another  story  about  how  skillful  Davy  was 
when  he  wanted  to  do  a  sort  of  mischievous  thing,  which 
in  these  days  might  be  called  stealing,  but  which  in  those 
old  days  was  counted  good-natured  fun.  It  is  said  that 
Davy  was  making  a  journey  by  boat  on  the  Mississippi 
Eiver.  At  that  time  it  was  customary  to  "treat" 
that  is,  to  provide  a  drink  from  the  boat  tavern  for  all 
on  board.  Sometimes  this  entailed  a  heavy  expense  on 
the  person  doing  the  treating,  and  as  money  was  not 
very  plentiful  it  often  became  a  serious  question.  Davy 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  57 

Crockett  was  in  his  usual  condition — without  money. 
He  was  dressed  in  the  ordinary  manner — coon-skin  cap, 
hunting  shirt,  and  trousers  of  the  skins  of  animals. 
Moreover,  he  carried  his  long*  hunting  rifle.  He  had  with 
him  a  coon  skin  which  he  offered  as  pay  for  "drinks  to 
go  'round."  I  suppose  this  was  when  he  was  a  candi- 
date for  office  and  that  many  of  his  voters  were  on  board 
the  old-fashioned  boat.  You  know  even  in  these  good  days 
candidates  sometimes  "treat"  the  voters.  Well,  when 
Davy's  coon-skin  money  gave  out  he  didn't  know  what 
to  do,  for  he  had  no  more  money.  The  bar  keeper  had 
carelessly  tossed  the  skin,  with  several  others,  in  one 
corner  of  the  room,  but  near  the  counter.  Our  hunter, 
with  the  keen  eye  for  which  he  was  noted,  discovered 
the  tail  of  his  former  coon  skin  protruding  a  little  too 
far  his  way  over  the  counter.  Knowing  that  soon  he 
would  have  to  treat  again,  he  pulled  the  tail  and  the 
skin  came  his  way.  A  few  minutes  later  he  was  called 
upon  to  again  treat  the  crowd,  whereupon  he  offered  his 
coon  skin  in  payment.  The  barkeeper  took  it,  thinking, 
no  doubt,  that  such  a  hunter  as  Crockett  was  known  to 
be  would  have  a  great  many  skins  for  sale.  He  threw 
the  hide  in  exactly  the  same  place  and  it  fell  in  the  same 
position.  Again  Davy  slyly  slipped  it  out  by  the  tail 


58  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

and  again  treated  his  friends.  He  kept  this  up  for  seven 
successive  times,  and  would  no,  doubt  have  succeeded  sev- 
eral more  times,  only  they  came  to  the  end  of  their  jour- 
ney. And  the  barkeeper  never  discovered  that  he  had 
bought  his  own  coon  skin  six  times.  The  incident  great- 
ly amused  many  of  the  men  on  the  boat,  who  all  the  while 
knew  what  the  keen  hunter  was  doing,  but  they  would 
not  tell  on  him.  Do  you  blame  them1? 

Not  long  after  the  marriage  with  Polly  Findley,  Davy 
moved  over  into  West  Tennessee  and  entered  politics. 
In  the  early  days,  when  a  man  had  a  special  gift  for 
speaking,  was  a  great  story-teller,  a  great  hunter,  or 
achieved  local  fame  in  any  way,  the  people  thought  he 
ought  to  be  elected  to  Congress  or  some  other  high  of- 
fice. It  sometimes  happened  that  a  man  would  win  out 
in  politics  first  because  the  people  liked  him,  and  not  so 
much  because  he  was  specially  fitted  for  the  high  posi- 
tion to  which  he  was  chosen.  Now  while  our  friend  was 
not  a  great  scholar,  he  was  far  above  the  average  in  his 
ideals  of  the  best  things  for  the  people  and  of  what  laws 
ought  to  be  made  to  suit  a  majority  of  the  citizens  of 
the  State.  Then  he  was  of  a  friendly  spirit,  which  made 
him  very  popular  with  every  one  who  knew  him.  In  ad- 
dition to  his  general  principles  of  friendship,  he  was  a 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  59 

brave  and  fearless  man  when  it  came  to  fighting.  In 
the  war  against  the  Creek  Indians  he  showed  so  much 
skill  and  bravery  that  the  soldiers  elected  him  their 
colonel,  a  very  high  honor  in  those  days.  So  you  see 
he  had  some  claim  to  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  the 
people  aside  from  his  skill  and  prowess  as  a  hunter. 

After  having  been  elected  to  the  legislature  from  Giles 
County,  and  later  from  Obion  County,  whither  he  had 
moved,  he  was  elected  to  the  National  Congress  in  1827. 
This  was  indeed  a  great  recognition  for  a  man  who  had 
gone  to  school  but  four  days  in  his  life.  But  there  were 
many  fine  traits  about  him,  and  his  friends  never  failed 
to  tell  these  good  things.  One  story  is  particularly  in- 
teresting. It  is  said  that  when  Crockett  was  just  a  youth 
he  learned  that  his  father  owed  a  rather  well-to-do  man 
a  small  sum  which  he  seemingly  could  not  pay.  Davy 
went  to  the  man  and  made  a  bargain  whereby,  if  he 
worked  a  whole  year  for  the  hard  taskmaster,  a  clear 
receipt  should  be  given.  This  he  is  said  to  have  done 
in  order  that  he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the 
look  of  joyous  surprise  on  his  father's  face  when  the 
paid  note  should  be  presented  to  him  at  the  end  of  the 
year.  A  boy  who  would  do  this  would  be  sure  to  win, 
don't  you  think? 


GO  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

But  even  if  Davy  was  good-natured  and  jovial  and 
popular  with  the  people,  lie  was  independent  and  would 
permit  no  one  to  control  him.  General  Jackson  was 
President,  and,  being  from  Tennessee,  he  thought  Colonel 
Crockett,  likewise  a  Tennessean,  ought  to  support  him 
as  President  in  all  the  things  he  did.  In  his  manner  be- 
fore the  people  Colonel  Crockett  had  won  them  by  stand- 
ing for  what  he  thought  was  right.  He  had  many  quaint 
and  curious  sayings,  all  of  which  he  used  in  his  cam- 
paigns and  in  his  utterances  against  President  Jackson. 
One  of  them  you  have  heard  often,  and  I  have  heard  it 
used  by  many  people  far,  far  away  from  Tennessee.  It 
is:  "Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead."  It  was 
his  motto,  and  he  followed  it  carefully  all  his  life.  In 
whatever  he  did  he  was  sure  in  his  own  mind  that  ho 
was  right.  Once  coming  to  the  conclusion,  no  power 
could  change  him,  and  he  never  faltered  in  his  endeavor 
to  carry  out  his  life  purpose. 

After  serving  four  years  in  Congress  lie  was  defeated, 
then  elected,  and  again  defeated  in  1S:>5.  You  would 
not  think  a  man  with  so  little  learning  would  dare  write 
a  book,  but  he  wrote  two  during  his  last  term  in  Con- 
gress, and  they  were  good  books,  'tis  said.  Everybody 
read  them  because  of  their  true  sayings  expressed  in 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  61 

quaint  and  humorous  language.  He  made  a  trip  to  Bos- 
ton with  a  number  of  distinguished  men,  and  wrote  a 
story  about  it  which  was  widely  read.  He  did  not  like 
Martin  Van  Buren,  whom  Jackson  wanted  for  his  suc- 
cessor as  President.  So  he  wrote  a  scathing  and  ridic- 
ulous book  about  him  which  was  full  of  many  amusing 
things,  most  of  which  were  true.  For  this,  Jackson  and 
his  friends  in  Tennessee  never  forgave  Crockett;  and 
when  time  for  his  reelection  came,  they  used  all  their 
forces  against  him  and  succeeded  in  his  defeat. 

I  have  said  that  Colonel  Crockett  was  independent. 
Tie  was  also  a  man  of  very  great  pride,  so  much  so  that 
when  he  was  defeated  he  would  not  remain  in  Tennessee, 
but  decided  to  leave  the  State  forever.  Perhaps  he  did 
not  exactly  mean  it  that  way,  but  so  it  proved,  as  you 
snail  soon  see. 

About  this  time  Texas,  which  you  know  as  the  "Lone 
Star  State,"  was  having  a  serious  struggle  with  Mexico 
for  her  independence.  On  every  side  she  seemed  be- 
sieged with  foes  that  should  have  been  her  friends.  The 
Mexicans  were  doing  all  they  could  to  retain  Texas  re- 
gardless of  what  should  happen  to  the  people  who  had 
gone  there  to  make  it  their  home.  Many  brave  men  from 
the  South  and  the  Kast,  attracted  by  the  heroic  strug- 


62  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

gle  Texas  was  making  for  independence,  went  to  this 
great  new  country  that  seemed  to  be  so  full  of  evil  days. 
Once  there,  they  took  on  the  true  spirit  of  Texas  and 
could  not  get  away,  but  must  stay  and  fight  what  seemed 
a  losing  battle. 

Chagrined  by  defeat  and  smarting  under  the  vic- 
tory of  his  enemies,  our  friend  turned  his  footsteps 
toward  this  new  country,  seeking  an  independence  which 
he  always  kept  for  himself,  and  determined  to  help  her 
all  he  could.  He  joined  the  army  and  was  in  the  famous 
siege  of  the  Alamo,  where,  on  March  6,  1836,  by  over- 
whelming numbers,  he,  with  many  another  brave  fellow, 
met  a  soldier's  death  at  the  hands  of  the  barbaric  Mex- 
icans, who,  not  content  with  murdering  the  people  within 
the  fort,  poured  kerosene  on  the  bodies,  some  of  which 
were  not  yet  dead,  and  set  fire  thereto,  that  they  might 
enjoy  the  hideous  pleasure  of  seeing  the  blaze.  It  is, 
said  that  Crockett  with  his  trusty  rifle  slew  a  dozen 
Mexicans  before  they  finally  overpowered  and  killed  him 
and  his  brave  companions,  among  whom  were  the  young 
and  chivalrous  Lieutenant  Travis  and  brave  Colonel 
Bowie,  inventor  of  the  famous  knife  that  bears  his  name. 

Thus  went  out  in  a  seemingly  useless  manner  the  life 
of  Davy  Crockett  at  the  age  of  fifty,  all  too  soon  we 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  63 

would  think;  yet  he  has  left  a  saying  that  will  live  for 
many,  many  years,  a  name  that  brightens  the  pages  of 
history,  and  a  heroism  that  thrills  us  with  delight  at  the 
very  mention  of  his  name.  But  the  death  of  Crockett 
and  his  brave  followers  was  not  in  vain.  It  set  the  whole 
country  on  fire  at  the  cruel  manner  in  which  death  came, 
so  that  the  Mexican  War  was  hastened,  if  not  entirely 
caused,  by  the  heartless  murders;  and  within  ten  years 
from  his  ignoble  death  the  whole  country  was  avenged 
of  his  sad  fate,  and  to-day  Texas  is  one  of  the  most  glo- 
rious in  our  great  sisterhood  of  States. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  65 


A  BORN  LEADER 

When  one  walks  for  days  and  days  up  hill  and  down 
over  valley  and  dale,  it  is  tiresome;  but  when  one  walks 
for  days  and  days  up  one  high  mountain  and  down  an- 
other, one  gets  very,  very  tired.  Only  the  most  persist- 
ent spirit  and  the  greatest  desire  for  better  things  could 


ANDREW  JOHNSON 

keep  a  tired  woman  and  little  boy,  leading  an  old  horse 
hitched  to  a  cart,  going  day  after  day,  even  after  all  three 
were  so  tired  that  many  times  before  nightfall  they 
wanted  so  much  to  rest  by  the  hot  and  dusty  roadside 
and  moisten  their  thirsty  lips  at  the  little  spring  from 


66  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

which  ran  a  swift-flowing  stream  down  the  steep  moun- 
tain side.  The  wayworn  mother  knew  they  must  keep 
on;  the  bright-eyed  boy,  with  his  bare  feet  and  face  of 
tan  and  coal-black  hair,  knew  they  must  keep  on;  even 
the  lazy,  laggard  old  horse  seemed  to  know  there  was  as 
yet  no  place  to  stop. 

As  they  pushed  their  tiresome  journey  on  the  moun- 
tain top  where  the  road  was  level  and  somewhat  wider 
than  the  average,  two  horsemen  rode  by,  one  on  a  very 
fine  steed  which  he  sat  with  a  gracefulness  that  would 
excite  envy  even  in  the  heart  of  the  best  of  riders.  He 
sat  as  erect  as  an  Indian;  his  horse  pranced  with  all  the 
pride  of  the  Arab  steeds  from  which  he  Avas  descended, 
and  arched  his  proud  neck  in  a  knowing  way  as  his  mas- 
ter gently  drew  the  reiiln  and  bowed  in  that  chivalrous 
way  known  only  to  a  Southerner  in  the  presence  of  wom- 
en. The  mother  and  her  handsome  son  stood  aside  to  let 
the  horsemen  ride  by.  The  boy  looked  at  the  distinguished 
rider  who  lifted  his  hat  so  politely,  and,  turning  to  his 
mother  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  said:  "Mother,  I'd  like 
to  be  a.  man  like  that!" 

The  man  was  Andrew  Jackson,  "The  Iron  Man,"  of 
whom  you  have  heard  much  already,  and  the  boy  was 
Andrew  Johnson,  of  whom  you  are  yet  to  hear  much. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  67 

What  an  inspiration  to  the  lad  must  have  been  the  fine- 
looking  young  lawyer  as  he  rode  by  on  his  magnificent 
horse  with  all  the  pride  of  a  conqueror;  for  he  had  it  in 
his  mind  to  do  some  big  things  in  his  life,  and  the  an- 
ticipated glory  shone  from  his  brilliant  eyes  and  re- 
flected on  his  beaming  countenance.  Yes,  and  I  think 
the  boy  must  have  gotten  great  inspiration  from  the  high 
mountains  which  on  every  side  lifted  their  rugged  peaks 
high  into  the  heavens  and  told  a  story  of  strength  and 
power  and  beauty  all  their  own.  He  could  look  at  them 
and  say:  "From  you  I  shall  draw  my  inspiration  for 
high  and  noble  deeds.  Your  builder  and  maker  is  God 
himself;  and  if  men  fail  me,  I  know  1  may  look  and  be- 
hold you,  always  standing  pointing  upward  and  beckon- 
ing me  to  do  my  best.  You  are  always  faithful  and  true 
as  God  made  you."  In  after  years  Andrew  Johnson  did 
point  to  those  beloved  mountains  and  call  them  his 
beacon  lights  of  faith  and  power  and  hope. 

Just  at  sunset  of  a  long,  hot,  sultry  day,  this  boy  and 
his  mother  came  to  a  little  village  which  had  once  been 
the  capital  of  the  ill-starred  State  of  Frankland,  and 
sought  rest  for  the  night.  Here  they  soon  decided  to 
make  their  home.  Little  did  they  or  those  who  gave 
them  aid  think  that  in  vears  to  come  this  barefooted  lad 


08  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

would  make  their  little  town  known  from  one  end  of  the 
nation  to  the  other,  and  that  in  the  most  troublesome 
times  the  nation  was  to  ever  see.  Even  to-day,  after 
Andrew  Johnson  has  been  dead  nearly  forty  years,  peo- 
ple come  from  long  distances  just  to  see  the  old  shop  in 
which  this  boy  worked  and  where  he  grew  to  manhood 
as  a  tailor;  many  of  his  tools — such  as  needles,  thimbles, 
and  the  tailor's  goose — are  to  be  seen  in  the  house  of 
his  grandson,  Hon.  Andrew  Johnson  Patterson,  who  re- 
sides in  the  old  Johnson  home  at  Greeneville,  Tenn.  Were 
you  to  visit  this  little  town,  people  would  point  with 
pride  to  a  little  old  house  in  the  upstairs  of  which  An- 
drew Johnson  made  his  first  speech.  But  I  am  antici- 
pating my  story. 

En  such  a  life  as  his  you  would  expect  a  little  of 
the  romantic  as  well  as  so  much  of  the  picturesque  and 
fearless  doing.  It  has  been  said,  and  perhaps  truly  so, 
that  a  little  turn  of  Fortune's  wheel,  which  we  sometimes 
call  luck  or  chance  or  accident,  lias  more  to  do  with 
our  lives  than  all  the  careful  planning  we  may  do.  We 
will  now  see  how  an  idle,  flippant  remark  led  to  the 
molding  of  a  life  that  was  to  tell  mightily  for  a  great 
nation  in  times  when  strong  men  quivered  at  the  burden 
of  responsibility  and  when  their  souls  grew  sick  at 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 


the  thought  of  possible  failure.  As  this  boy  and 
his  mother  came  down  the  one  street  of  the  strag- 
gling village  of  Greeneville,  some  girls  were  playing 


SHOP  OF  AXDKEW  Jonxsox,  Tailor 
At  Greeneville,  Tenn. 

under  tlie  shade  of  a  friendly  oak  by  the  roadside.  They 
looked  at  the  unique  sight  with  some  amusement, 
but  they  were  used  to  travelers,  and  the  inc'ident  would 


70  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

perhaps  have  passed  unnoticed  had  it  not  been  for 
the  fine  appearance  of  the  lad  with  his  smooth,  face  and 
coal-black  hair.  One  of  the  girls  playing  in  the  shade 
turned  to  her  companions  and  said:  "Girls,  there  goes 
my  beau;  now  see  if  it  isn't!"  Of  course  no  attention 
was  paid  to  the  remark,  but  more  came  of  it.  The  boy 
and  his  mother  took  up  residence  in  the  hamlet,  and  soon 
he  as  a  tailor  became  acquainted  with  other  tradesmen 
of  the  town,  who  were  of  material  aid  to  each  other, 
among  them  one  Thomas  McCardle,  a  cobbler.  This  cob- 
bler had  a  daughter,  Eliza,  and  it  was  she  who  made  the 
above  remark  upon  first  seeing  Andrew  Johnson  the  day 
lie  came  to  Green eville.  Naturally,  with  so  many  things 
in  common,  they  came  to  know  each  other  well,  and  with- 
in a  year  their  love  pledges  were  realized  in  a  happy 
marriage,  which  no  doubt  had  much  to  do  with  making 
Andrew  Johnson  the  great  man  he  was.  As  a  boy  he 
had  been  unable  to  go  to  school  any,  for  his  father,  Jacob 
Johnson,  was  a  very,  very  poor  man,  who  could  not  even 
read  in  the  simplest  of  books,  and  certainly  could  not 
write.  He  worked  away  all  day  long  at  his  tailor's 
goose,  nimbly  plying  his  needle  from  early  morning  until 
far  into  the  night.  When  finally  the  day's  work  was 
dosed — not  finished,  for  he  never  really  finished — he  sat 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  71 

with  his  young  wife,  who  taught  him  to  read.  He  learned 
rapidly,  but  his  developing  mind  suffered  for  informa- 
tion he  did  not  have  time  to  acquire,  because  he  had  to 
work  all  the  day  long  to  provide  for  himself  and  family 
the  necessities  of  life.  His  good  wife,  busy  with  her 
household  duties,  could  not  read  to  him  all  the  time. 
Whafc  was  he  to  do!  Already  his  active  mind  was  turn- 
ing to  history,  government  affairs,  and  constitutional 
ideals.  It  took  a  great  deal  of  reading  in  those  days 
to  be  informed  on  such  subjects,  for  there  were  few 
newspapers,  and  most  people  got  their  information  from 
books  and  public  debates.  So  Andrew  Johnson  liked 
people  to  read  for  him  while  lie  worked  at  his  trade  of 
making  clothes.  He  paid  fifty  cents  a  day  for  these  read- 
ers, and  only  a  short  time  ago  there  was  a  man  still  liv- 
ing in  Greeneville  who  had  been  paid  to  read  to  this  man 
who  was  to  become  great  by  the  things  he  knew  and  the 
things  he  accomplished.  Nothing  seemed  to  escape  his 
wonderful  mind.  When  lie  had  more  money  and  more 
time  and  could  purchase  books  and  read  them,  he  became 
a  very  close  student  of  words.  He  kept  a  dictionary  near 
all  the  time,  and  it  is  said  that  he  never  had  to  look  at 
any  word  the  second  time,  so  wonderful  a  memory  did 
he  possess. 


72  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

As  he  grew  in  knowledge  of  books  and  constitutional 
government,  his  knowledge  of  men  was  not  lost.  Nor 
were  the  people  of  Greeneville  slow  to  note  and  appreci- 
ate his  fine  development.  They  began  talking  about 
making  him  their  leader,  and  soon  elected  him  mayor  of 
the  little  town.  Not  long  after  this  a  member  of  the 
legislature  was  to  be  elected  for  Greene  and  Hawkins 
Counties.  Several  men  had  announced  from  various 
parts  of  the  two  counties.  A  group  of  citizens,  includ- 
ing some  candidates  themselves,  were  discussing  the  sit- 
uation in  one  of  the  stores  one  night.  Andrew  Johnson 
was  sitting  on  the  counter  listening  to  the  discussion, 
saying  a  word  now  and  then  himself.  He  slid  down  off 
the  counter  and  said  rather  excitedly:  "I'm  in  that  fight, 
too!"  This  was  the  real  beginning  of  his  career.  He 
was  elected  to  the  lower  house,  later  went  to  the  State 
Senate,  for  which  he  was  defeated  in  his  second  race,  but 
was  again  elected  in  the  third  race.  In  the  Senate  he 
was  one  of  the  ''Immortal  Thirteen,"  which  by  their  ac- 
tion caused  Tennessee  to  be  without  any  representation 
in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  for  two  years.  Soon 
he  was  elected  to  Congress,  and  then  governor  of  Tennes- 
see for  two  terms,  and  finally  was  given  the  very  highly 
exalted  honor  of  being  elected  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  73 

States,  in  which  position  he  was  serving  when  the  great 
Civil  War  came  up.  Many  States  in  the  South  declared 
their  independence  of  the  Federal  government  and  se- 
ceded, among  them  Tennessee.  President  Lincoln  placed 
Tennessee  under  military  government,  with  Andrew 
Johnson  as  governor.  He  was  a  Democrat  in  politics,  but 
was  for  the  LTnion,  and  was  in  politics  what  was  known 
in  those  days  as  a  "Union  Democrat."  Despite  the  fact 
that  a  great  many  people  in  Tennessee — in  fact,  a  great 
majority  of  them — favored  secession  and  slavery,  Gov- 
ernor Johnson  was  very  popular  and  did  much  to  make 
less  frightful  the  horrible  evils  of  war  in  the  State  he 
had  adopted  for  his  own.  It  was  a  great  blessing  to 
Tennessee  and  her  citizens  that  President  Lincoln  placed 
him  in  charge  of  her  affairs.  He  lived  in  Nashville,  and 
was  there  nearly  two  years  without  seeing  his  wife,  be- 
cause the  rules  of  war  would  not  permit  her  passage 
from  her  home  far  up  in  the  mountains  of  the  State,  where 
the  people  were  largely  Union  in  sentiment,  to  the  middle 
portion  of  the  State,  where  their  sympathy  was  largely 
for  the  Confederacy.  Andrew  Johnson  was  so  popular  and 
magnetic  as  a  public  speaker  and  a  leader  of  men  that 
he  could  speak  to  an  audience  greatly  opposed  to  him 
in  principle  and  receive  their  hearty  applause,  as  the  fol- 


74  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

lowing  incident  will  illustrate.  He  was  expected  to 
speak  in  a  town  the  majority  of  whose  citizens  were 
against  the  Union.  It  was  just  at  the  breaking  out  of  the 
war  and  feeling  ran  high,  with  hostilities  ready  to  break 
out  almost  everywhere  at  practically  any  time.  A  great 
crowd  had  assembled  at  the  station,  among  them  some 
boys  from  a  near-by  college  who  came  with  the  evident 
intention  of  breaking  up  the  meeting.  When  the  train 
came  in,  Senator  Johnson  got  no  further  than  the  sta- 
tion platform,  so  great  were  the  cries:  "Speech!  Speech!" 
For  more  than  two  hours  he  spoke  in  tones  of  eloquence 
and  magnetism  and  persuasiveness  for  which  few  men 
are  noted.  He  swayed  the  great  audience  by  a  mere  nod 
of  his  head  or  beck  of  the  hand  until  they  hung  on  his 
very  words.  When  he  had  finished,  there  was  a  breathless 
silence.  The  boys  who  came  to  do  mischief  gave  one  se- 
cession yell,  when,  to  their  utter  astonishment,  there  was 
not  a  single  response,  and  they  had  to  flee  rapidly  to 
escape  arrest.  The  personality  of  Andrew  Johnson  was 
greater  than  any  sentiment,  and  the  people,  though  op- 
posed to  him  in  principle,  would  not  permit  the  smallest 
lack  of  respect  to  a  man  of  such  charm  and  power  and 
high  thought. 

In  18()4  the  supporters  of  President  Lincoln  felt  that 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 


75 


he  should  have  a  running-  mate  from  the  South  who 
agreed  with  him  on  his  war  policy.     They  chose  Andrew 


MONUMENT  OF  ANDREW  JOHNSON 
At  Greeneville,  Term. 

(Our  only  President  whose  body  lies  in  a 

National  Cemetery  cared  for  by  the 

Federal  Government) 

Johnson,   who  proved  to  be  a  fine  vote-getter.      When 
Mr.  Lincoln  died  in  1865,  Mr.  Johnson,  as  Vice  Presi- 


7(5  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

dent,  became  President  of  the  United  States,  the  highest 
honor  any  man  may  have  in  this  country.  He  tried  to 
carry  out  Mr.  Lincoln's  plans,  as  well  as  his  own,  for  the 
South,  and  in  so  doing  incurred  the  displeasure  of  Con- 
gress; but  most  of  the  people  of  the  country  trusted  him 
always,  and  his  faith  in  them  never  wavered  for  a  mo- 
ment. His  qualities  of  leadership  were  foresight,  mag- 
netism, and  personal  fearlessness. 

When  he  came  to  the  White  House,  his  good  wife  was 
an  invalid,  and  their  daughter,  Mrs.  Martha  Patterson, 
did  the  honors  as  the  first  lady  of  the  land.  When  peo- 
ple sought  to  pay  her  homage,  she  said:  "I  am  but  a 
plain  woman  from  the  mountains  of  Tennessee;  and  if 
you  seek  to  do  me  honor,  you  must  honor  my  people 
also."  Such  noble  sentiment  could  not  fail  to  find  a  re- 
sponsive note  in  the  hearts  and  minds  of  the  whole  peo- 
ple of  the  country. 

Andrew  Johnson  served  for  four  years  as  President  and 
then  retired  to  the  quiet  and  peace  of  his  old  home  at 
Greeneville;  but  the  people  would  not  have  it  so,  and 
again  sent  him  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  He  had 
been  there  but  a  short  time  when  death  called  him.  A  tall 
marble  shaft  marks  his  last  resting  place  on  a  hilltop 
near  Greeneville  in  what  is  now  a  National  Cemetery, 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  77 

made  so  by  the  ceaseless  energy  of  Congressman  Wal- 
ter Preston  Brownlow.  another  man  of  whom  a  great 
story  may  be  written.  If  you  go  to  Greeneville,.  the  peo- 
ple will  point  with  pride  to  this  hilltop,  and  you  will 
read  on  the  monument:  "His  faith  in  the  people  never 
wavered." 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  79 


WALKING  TO  CONGRESS 

It  was  a  little  house,  and  the  rough  split  boards  of  the 
roof  were  held  on  by  old  logs  and  rocks,  while  the  floor 
was  made  of  puncheon — the  halves  of  split  logs  held 
in  place  by  wooden  pins  in  bored  holes.  The  spaces  be- 
tween the  rough  logs  forming  the  walls  were  filled  by 
small  stones,  red  clay,  and  gravel.  From  the  rafters  in- 
side— for  there  was  no  ceiling  to  this  crude  house  of  a 
home— hung  bits  of  dried  venison,  smoked  bacon,  basket 
timber,  seasoned  hickory  for  ax  handles,  an  old  fishing 
pole  made  of  slender  pine  in  its  natural  growth — no  knife 
bad  touched  it  except  to  take  the  peel  off — two  or  three 
half-finished  baskets,  splits  for  chairs,  some  garden  seed. 
a  paper  sack  of  sage  leaves,  and  a  rag  bag  of  old  clothes. 
Over  the  rude  door — there  was  only  one  door — reposing 
safely  in  its  rack  made  of  natural  forks  cut  from  the  sour- 
wood — a  tree  of  small  growth  well  known  in  the  South- 
ern Appalachians — was  the  old-fashioned,  muzzle-load- 
ing family  rifle,  more  than  six  feet  long  from  end  of  muz 
zle  to  hollow  of  stock,  and  with  which  its  owner  could 
pick  a  squirrel  from  the  highest  tree,  kill  a  Virginia  red 


80  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

deer  on  the  run,  or  pierce  the  vital  spots  of  a  bear  at 
long  range.  Long  years  of  practice,  backed  up  by  gen- 
erations of  forebears  who  were  mountaineers,  had  given 
this  man  the  peculiar  and  unerring  skill  of  the  men  of 
the  mountains.  William  B.  Campbell,  John  Sevier,  Isaac 
Shelby,  and  Colonel  Cleveland  knew  what  they  were 
about  when  they  selected  riflemen  from  this  mountain 
region  to  fight  the  battle  of  King's  Mountain,  October 
7,  1780.  They  were  men  who  could  shoot  straight,  re- 
load quickly,  and  fire  all  day  without  getting  tired  or 
losing  nerve.  And  when  Samuel  Doak,  founder  of  the 
first  institution  of  learning  in  the  Mississippi  Valley,  of- 
fered prayer  for  these  mountain  men  at  Sycamore  Shoals 
on  their  way  to  fight  this  battle,  which  was  to  be  the 
turning  point  for  the  friends  of  liberty  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary War,  he  knew  he  was  praying  for  men  who  could 
back  up  his  prayers  with  deeds  of  valor,  because  the  red 
blood  in  their  veins  was  from  ancestors  whose  lifeblood 
had  made  wet  many  another  battlefield  in  the  cause  of 
freedom. 

On  the  blackened  and  unpapered  and  unceiled  walls  of 
this  log  cabin  were  pasted  a  few  old,  old  pictures — such 
as  "The  Mill,"  "Lincoln  and  His  Cabinet,"  "Washing- 
ton on  Horseback,"  "The  Four  Seasons,"  and  others  of 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  81 

a  similar  nature.  But  they  were  dark  and  soiled  and  al- 
most beyond  recognition.  Doubtless  they  had  been  gath- 
ered from  some  sale  of  old  property  in  a  well-to-do  farm- 
ing community,  or  had  been  presented  with  the  compli- 
ments of  the  country  merchant  far  away.  But  they 
showed  a  little  love  for  the  higher  and  more  refined 
things  of  life,  and  were  better  there  than  not.  In  this 
one  room  the  family  of  several  slept,  cooked,  and  ate. 
The  absence  of  half  a  log  in  one  side  of  the  house  served 
for  extra  light.  At  nights  and  in  stormy  weather  it  was 
closed  by  a  rough  board  hung  on  hinges  made  of  leather 
taken  from  pieces  of  worn-out  boots.  The  fireplace  at 
which  the  family  warmed  themselves  and  before  which 
their  meals  were  cooked  was  full  five  feet  wide  and  al- 
most as  deep.  The  "arch"  was  made  by  a  huge  oak 
piece,  the  trunk  of  quite  a  large  tree.  As  far  as  the 
"hips,"  just  above  the  fireplace,  the  chimney  was  of 
sandstone,  found  in  abundance  in  these  mountains.  The 
rest  of  the  way  it  was  of  small  split  sticks  and  mud, 
known  locally  as  "stick  and  mud"  chimney.  The  big 
hearth  was  of  two  large,  flat  limestone  rocks,  of  which  the 
little  valley,  watered  by  a  trickling  stream,  was  well  sup- 
plied. An  old-time  "four  poster"  served  as  the  sleep- 
ing place  for  the  father,  mother,  and  smaller  children, 


82  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

while  the  larger  children  slept  in  the  "trundle  bed,"  kept 
securely  hidden  during'  the  day  pushed  back  under  the 
other  bed.  Three  or  four  chairs,  a  long  bench,  a  table 
for  dining,  and  a  smaller  table  known  as  the  "cook  ta- 
ble," made  up  the  articles  of  furniture  in  this  home. 
The  exterior  of  the  house  wras  about  what  you  would 
expect  from  the  description  of  the  interior.  A  stranger 
who  knew  not  the  ways  of  the  mountaineers  would  not 
count  it,  at  best,  more  than  a  small  stable  where  sheep 
or  cattle  might  be  housed  in  safety  if  the  weather  were 
not  too  rough.  Rut  a  dwelling  place  for  folks  who  are 
to  take  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  nation  and  whose  an- 
cestry have  helped  saAre  the  day  on  well-known  battle- 
fields— never! 

A  few  acres  of  cleared  land  about  the  house,  culti- 
vated by  the  father,  mother,  and  all  the  children,  helped 
to  give  them  a  living,  for  they  didn't  need  much.  The 
rocks  were  far  more  plentiful  than  the  stalks  of  corn  and 
beans,  and  even  more  abundant  than  the  potatoes  and 
onions  that  grew  in  the  thin  soil.  But  somehow  they 
managed  to  live.  This  was  not  many  years  following 
the  close  of  the  Civil  Wai1,  and  every  one  lived  on  little. 
The  country  in  which  this  home  was  located  lies  far  up 
in  the  mountains,  and  at  that  time  was  miles  from  anv 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  83 

railroad  or  other  public  carrier.  It  had  no  schools  to 
speak  of,  but  few  churches,  and  practically  no  roads. 
In  the  census  of  1900  it  was  the  third  most  illiterate 
county  of  native  white  voters  in  the  United  States.  But 
in  the  Civil  War  and  in  the  little  unpleasantness  of  one 
hundred  days  with  Spain  it  furnished  its  full  quota  of 
volunteers  for  the  government  army,  and  would  again 
to-morrow  if  called  upon. 

One  of  these  mountain  States,  West  Virginia  by  name, 
has  for  her  motto,  "Montani  semper  liberi,"  which  being 
freely  translated  reads:  "Mountaineers  are  always  free- 
men." And  so  the  people  of  this  little  mountain  county 
feel.  Surrender  to  a  strange  power  they  might  do,  but 
accept  conditions  of  tyranny — never.  The  oncoming 
civilization  may  change  their  conditions,  make  them  live 
in  painted  houses,  wear  store  clothes,  eat  "breakfast 
food,"  and  put  on  a  high  collar  with  square  corners,  but 
it  will  never  change  their  patriotism  and  belief  in  the 
old-fashioned  religion  of  ultra-Protestantism. 

The  humble  home  of  which  I  write  was  located  at  the 
head  of  a  cove  quite  a  way  up  the  mountain  side  near 
a  great  spring  whose  water  nourished  the  ten-acre  lot  in 
the  midst  of  which  was  the  house.  The  clearing  was 
practically  the  last  vestige  of  civilization  as  you  went 


84  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

from  the  little  county  seat,  not  more  than  a  village,  across 
the  Allegheny  Mountains  into  North  Carolina.  In  this 
part  of  Tennessee  (for  it  is  of  that  State  this  is  written) 
there  were  many  travelers  from  the  low  country  out 
along  the  rivers  of  the  valley  who  came  this  way  either 
to  purchase  a  calf  or  two  from  the  mountaineers  or  to 
take  the  old  Indian  trail  leading  into  the  neighboring 
State,  whither  they  were  going  for  the  same  purpose. 
Now  and  then,  being  unexpectedly  overtaken  by  the 
shades  of  night  or  a  severe  mountain  storm,  the  weary 
traveler  would  seek  rest  for  himself  and  his  tired  horse 
within  the  hospitable  walls  of  some  mountaineer's  lonely 
hut;  for  the  mountain  man  is  ever  ready  to  share  his 
scanty  fare  with  friend  and  foe  alike,  if  only  he  be 
ahungered.  Late  one  afternoon  in  early  spring,  a  cattle 
buyer,  seeing  an  impending  storm,  drew  rein  before  the 
lonely  chalet  of  which  I  write  and  sought  shelter  both 
from  the  coming  storm  and  the  fast-falling  night.  There 
was  nothing  unusual  about  the  stranger  to  distinguish 
him  from  others  of  his  kind.  His  lazy,  swinging  stride, 
careless  wearing  of  the  clothing,  wide  hat,  and  unkempt 
beard  and  hair  at  once  betokened  his  free  life  so  far  as 
conventionalities  go.  But  withal  there  was  keen  native 
intelligence  in  his  look.  His  horse  was  good  for  that 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  85 

country,  and  his  saddle  was  of  the  Texas  style,  just  then 
coming  into  use  in  that  section.  The  comforts  he  sought, 
were  not  denied,  and  soon  after  partaking  of  their  frugal 
meal  the  entire  family  gathered  about  the  large  open 
hearth  to  hear  what  news  the  stranger  might  bring  from 
other  settlements,  and  also  from  the  county  seat  some 
miles  away,  where,  as  a  horse  and  cattle  dealer,  he  went 
on  "first  Mondays"  to  ply  his  business.  While  the 
storm  raged  without  in  midnight  darkness,  bending  huge 
trees  in  its  fierce  path,  and  while  the  rain  fell  in  tor- 
rents upon  the  "board-and-rock-pole"  roof,  the  visitor 
gave  the  news  as  he  had  gathered  it  in  many  days  of 
travel.  After  telling  all  the  local  and  general  news,  and 
being  quite  loquacious,  as  you  often  find  these  traders, 
he  proceeded  to  expostulate  upon  success  in  life  in  gen- 
eral. You  know  there  are  some  people  who  have  never 
achieved  any  great  success,  but  who  can  tell  you  how 
it  ought  to  be  done.  It  happened  that  our  friend,  the 
trader,  belonged  to  this  class.  In  the  course  of  his  re- 
marks he  talked  at  length  on  what  a  "leetle  larnin'  in 
books  mout  do  fer  a  feller,"  telling  how  some  one 
whom  he  had  seen  went  to  school  and  was  afterward 
given  a  fine  position  in  a  store;  how  another  had  been 
made  president  of  a  college;  how  another  had  become  a 


86  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

great  preacher  "up  in  York  State;"  and  how  still  an- 
other had  studied  surgery,  and  how  he  had  seen  him  in 
"'bout  a  minute  saw  off  er  man's  leg  what  had  been 
crushed  in  er  sawmill."  This  sage  of  the  mountains 
would  wind  up  his  philosophical  remarks  by  saying:  "If 
I  was  a  youngster,  I'd  go  to  skule.  It's  kind  uv  quare 
what  a  leetle  eddication'll  du  fer  ye.  Hit  seems  to  be 
just  like  spring  rain  on  late-planted  corn — fetch  hit 
all  out  ter  onct."  And  with  this  wise  remark  he  shifted 
his  chew  of  tobacco  to  the  other  side  of  his  mouth  and 
spat  in  the  dying  embers. 

THE  AWAKENING 

This  little  incident  is  told  just  to  tell  the  story  of  one 
boy,  and  he  lived  in  this  humble  mountain  home,  and  his 
name  was  John — that  is  his  name  yet.  He  was  the  oldest 
of  the  family.  His  mass  of  thickly  matted  black  hair 
overhanging  keen  black  eyes  did  not  tell  a  story  any 
different  from  that  of  other  boys  or  from  other  members 
of  the  family.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  had  hardly  been 
out  of  his  own  "deestrict,"  but  remembered  one  journey 
to  the  comity  seat,  fifteen  miles  away.  For  schooling  he 
had  read  the  "blue-backed"  speller  and  could  spell 
nearly  all  of  its  words,  knowing  many  columns  by  heart. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  87 

from  "baker"  to  "incomprehensibility."  He  had 
learned  this  by  the  light  of  the  pine  torch  at  night  as 
much  as  from  the  poorly  equipped  school  which  he  at- 
tended two  or  three  months  in  the  year.  But  he  had 
that  much  learning,  anyway.  His  knowledge  of  things 
was  very  limited.  How  could  it  be  otherwise!  His 
chief  asset  lay  in  the  good  health  and  spirit  of  free  in- 
dependence from  breathing  the  pure  air  of  the  moun- 
tains more  than  two  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  He  looked  with  awe  upon  a  stranger  and  almost 
trembled  with  timidity  at  the  thought  of  meeting  and 
having  to  speak  to  some  one  he  had  never  seen.  Even 
while  this  stranger  had  been  talking  to  the  father,  the 
boy  lay  almost  hidden  by  the  pots  and  other  vessels  for 
cooking  placed  away  in  the  corner.  Nevertheless,  the 
words  of  the  stranger  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  his 
strong,  but  undeveloped,  mind,  and  long  after  the  guest 
had  taken  his  departure,  for  he  went  with  the  breaking 
of  the  storm,  the  boy  lay  in  his  crude  bed,  but  little 
better  than  a  pile  of  oak  leaves,  and  thought  and  thought 
and  thought.  Little  by  little  it  came  to  his  untutored 
mind  that  he,  too,  might  go  to  school  and  become  edu- 
cated. What  a  long  step  it  was  in  the  civilization  of 
the  race  when  the  common  man  rose  up  in  his  strength 


88  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

and  majesty  and  said:  "I,  too,  will  go  to  school;  I,  too, 
will  become  educated!"  Great  it  was  because  the  vast 
majority  of  the  human  race  are  common  people,  anyway. 

The  next  day,  as  the  boy  and  his  father  and  the  other 
members  of  the  family  went  about  their  spring  work, 
he  could  not  forget  what  the  stranger  had  said.  Some- 
how the  words  kept  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  he  thought 
of  the  familiar  simile  used  by  the  stranger  and  wondered 
if  his  life  could  be  "fetched  out"  any.  The  birds  sang 
in  the  trees,  the  squirrels  in  the  near-by  forest  snapped 
the  unfolding  buds,  and  the  boy  thought  more  and  more. 
At  last  he  took  courage  to  mention  it  to  his  father. 
What  a  load  lifted  from  his  heart  as  he  thus  spoke  and 
saw  that  his  father  was  pleased! 

But  how  was  he  to  go  to  school?  His  father  had  no 
money.  The  little  plot  of  land  yielded  hardly  a  living. 
Nothing  had  been  saved  all  these  years  against  ; '  a  rainy 
day."  Only  the  most  meager  living  had  been  had  from  the 
tilling  of  the  little  farm,  and  that  had  to  be  supplemented 
by  game  from  the  father's  trusty  rifle.  Then,  where  was 
a  school,  anyway,  and  how  would  he  get  there?  It  was 
thirty  miles  to  a  railway  and  he  had  never  seen  a  train; 
besides,  if  there  were  a  dozen  railroads  by  his  home,  he 
couldn't  go  without  money.  His  father,  slow  of  thought 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  89 

as  he  was,  began  to  hope  and  plan  a  little  for  the  boy,  too. 
It  stirred  his  pride  to  think  that  a  son  of  his  should  be  con- 
cerned enough  to  plan  to  go  to  school,  and  that,  too, 
when  he  had  nothing  with  which  to  plan.  As  the  sum- 
mer days  came  and  went  the  boy  and  the  father  had  a 
growing  desire  for  the  school  and  what  it  might  do. 
There  was  the  yearling  calf  which  had  been  meant  to 
purchase  winter  shoes  and  other  clothing  for  the  family, 
and  which  they  had  refused  to  sell  to  the  trader  for  that 
very  reason.  But  now  it  was  decided  that  he  should  go 
to  help  John.  He  would  probably  not  bring  more  than 
ten  dollars,  and  the  folks  could  get  shoes  and  clothing 
some  way,  however  difficult  it  might  be.  But  when 
should  he  go,  and  how  should  he  get  there?  After  much 
pondering  it  was  decided  that  he  ought  to  go  to  one  of 
the  Eastern  colleges.  How  did  he  learn  about  it?  He 
had  heard  his  teacher  tell  about  old  man  Johnson's  son, 
Henry,  who  had  gone  there  and  became  great  in  math- 
ematics— so  great  that  he  had  made  his  way  by  coach- 
ing the  sons  of  the  wealthy  and  getting  them  ready  for 
their  final  examinations.  Neither  John  nor  his  father 
knew  about  the  entrance  requirements  or  anything  of 
that  sort. 


!)()  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

LAUNCHING  OUT 

So  one  day  in  the  early  fall,  when  the  fodder  was  in 
the  shock  on  the  ten-acre  lot,  the  potatoes  had  been  put 
away,  and  only  the  pumpkins  and  beans  and  nuts  re- 
mained to  be  garnered,  John,  with  his  steer  money  of 
ten  big  dollars  in  his  pocket,  left  the  little  home  far  up 
in  the  mountains,  and  with  his  worldly  possessions  done 
up  in  an  old  carpet  bag,  the  gift  of  a  friend  of  the  fam- 
ily, he  set  out  to  walk  the  thirty  miles  to  the  nearest 
railway  town.  It  was  a  bright  autumnal  morning.  The 
chestnuts  and  hickorynuts  were  just  beginning  to  shed 
their  luscious  fruit.  Now  and  then  a  squirrel  on  his  way 
to  his  winter  home  with  a  nut  in  his  paws  would  cross 
the  path,  and  John,  too,  would  stop  to  gather  a  few  nuts 
for  his  own  use.  But  he  trudged  on,  and  when  noon  came 
he  sat  down  by  a  friendly  tree,  from  under  which  flowed  a 
cool  spring,  to  eat  his  lunch  of  simple  food  put  up  by 
his  mother.  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  arrived  at  the  sta- 
tion but  little  worse  for  his  journey  of  thirty  miles.  Jt 
was  not  much  of  a  walk  for  his  supple  young  body  and 
strong,  wiry  limbs.  I  To  had  never  seen  a  train,  nor  even 
the  picture  of  one.  His  heart  almost  jumped  from  its 
place  when  he  saw  the  little  switch  engine  back  up  to 
shift  some  cars,  and  he  wondered  where  he  would  ride. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  91 

But  the  kind  man  in  charge  took  him  to  the  station  agent, 
who,  when  he  found  where  the  boy  wanted  to  go,  looked 
with  amazement  at  his  coarse  shoes,  homespun  "  jeans," 
and  cheap  hat,  and  wondered  how  he  would  look  in  a 
city.  Howrever,  the  agent  knew  little  more  about  the 
distant  city  than  did  John;  but  when  he  told  John  that 
it  took  almost  four  times  as  much  money  as  he  had  to 
get  tli ere,  the  boy  said:  "Well,  gimme  er  ticket  ez  fer  ez 
it'll  go."  At  ten  o'clock  that  night  he  boarded  his  first 
train,  and  in  about  twenty-four  hours  left  it.  What 
thrilling  sensations  crept  over  him  as  the  roar  of  the 
locomotive,  together  with  the  thought  of  leaving  home, 
came  to  him!  But  he  was  going  where  he  could  be  made 
to  open  up  like  the  corn  in  the  spring.  He  slept  but 
little  that  first  night,  and  the  second  night  his  ticket  had 
all  been  used.  Fortunately  his  mother  had  given  him 
ample  rations  and  he  yet  had  food.  Fortunately  again, 
he  was  put  off  at  a  small  country  station  in  a  fine  farm- 
ing country.  Undismayed,  he  set  out  to  walk  the  high- 
way that  led  along  the  railroad.  When  he  became  tired, 
he  crept  into  a  convenient  haystack,  and  with  that  and 
the  friendly  stars  for  covering,  he  slept  the  sleep  of 
wearied  youth  until  the  bright  morning  sun  awoke  him 
just  as  the  farmer  and  his  hired  men  were  going  to 


92  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

harvest  the  corn.  Many  generations  of  mountain  dwell- 
ers had  made  him  unafraid  in  the  dark,  but  he  did  shrink 
from  strangers.  However,  the  friendly  farmer  bade  him 
go  to  the  house  for  a  warm  breakfast  and  asked  him  to 
work  a  day  or  two.  But  these  lengthened  into  weeks, 
and  when  the  farmer's  busy  work  was  over  John  had 
enough  money  to  take  him  more  than  another  day's  jour- 
ney, which  brought  him  to  within  less  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  of  his  destination. 

Still  undaunted,  he  trudged  the  rest  of  the  way,  and 
made  more  than  thirty  miles  a  day,  too. 

Arriving  at  the  little  city  one  bright  noonday  in  late 
autumn,  for  the  seasons  are  earlier  there  than  in  the 
Southern  mountains,  he  inquired  of  a  street  man  the  way 
to  the  college.  The  citizen  eyed  the  newcomer  in  a  curi- 
ous sort  of  way.  Well,  he  did  look  a  little  odd.  In  the 
five  weeks  since  he  left  home  he  had  had  no  change  of 
top  clothes.  His  brown  "jeans"  and  cowhide  shoes, 
homemade,  were  beginning  to  look  the  worse  for  the 
wear.  He  looked  almost  as  unpromising  as  did  Benja- 
min Franklin  when  he  appeared  in  the  streets  of  Phila- 
delphia and  met  Deborah  Reed  more  than  one  hundred 
years  before.  But  he  was  just  as  courageous  as  was 
Franklin. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  93 

Finding  his  way  into  the  college,  he  was  soon  shown 
how  wholly  unprepared  he  was  for  the  work  there.  But 
the  professor-who  gave  him  this  information  remembered 
that  other  students  had  come  from  these  Southern  moun- 
tains. In  fact,  he  remembered  Johnson.  He  did  not 
look  at  the  well-worn  garments,  nor  the  mass  of  hair, 
nor  the  rough,  bony  hands,  but  rather  he  saw  the  keen- 
ness of  the  boy's  eyes  and  thought  there  might  be  a 
future  to  him.  He  then  told  him  of  the  city  public 
schools,  and  even  if  he  had  no  money  a  way  could  be 
made.  Soon  a  home  was  found  for  him  with  a  wealthy 
merchant,  with  whom  he  had  his  living  for  the  chores. 
In  a  comparatively  brief  time  he  finished  the  public- 
school  course,  then  the  preparatory  course,  and  was  ad- 
mitted to  college. 

With  the  courage  that  comes  from  one  success  after 
another,  he  finished  his  college  course  with  honors  that 
meant  even  more  than  honorable  mention.  His  class 
standing  exempted  him  from  examination  and  likewise 
graduated  him  as  valedictorian.  Like  Horace  Maynard, 
who  won  fame  and  greatness  in  the  region  from  which 
our  hero  migrated,  he  seemed  to  have  unconsciously 
written  high  up  on  the  wall  of  his  room  the  letter  "V," 
and  lived  to  see  it  grow  into  the  highest  honor  a  class 


94  SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES 

might  give  or  a  college  bestow.  His  years  back  in  the 
mountains  had  given  him  powers  of  endurance,  and  his 
simple  life  had  endowed  him  with  qualities  of  mental 
growth  almost  unparalleled  among  the  student  bod}7 
whose  association  and  companionship  he  so  greatly  rel- 
ished and  enjoyed. 

But  his  busy,  studious  days  had  not  kept  him  from  some 
diversions  that  might  develop  another  side  of  his  nature 
—a  side  which  we  all  seem  to  possess,  whether  rich  or 
poor,  bond  or  free,  peasant  or  noble.  Coming  of  a  race 
noted  for  their  far-seeing  statesmanship  and  combative 
f^uaHties  developed  by  long,  long  ages  of  fighting  in  de- 
fense of  home  and  native  land,  he  was  ever  ready  for 
that  which  would  try  his  mettle.  In  the  college  town 
there  lived  a  very  wealthy  man  whose  beautiful  daughter 
\vas  a  classmate  of  our  timid  and  backward  friend.  But 
her  beauty  did  not  escape  his  eye,  trained  as  it  was  more 
for  the  squirrel  and  the  inhabitant  of  the  forest  than  for 
the  beauty  of  the  city.  When  out  of  college  and  into 
the  law  school  in  the  same  town,  he  did  not  forget  this 
i'air  daughter  of  a  noble  house;  yet  he  hardly  dared  ap- 
proach the  sacred  precincts  of  her  palatial  home.  A 
quiet  turn  of  the  wheel  of  fortune — and  it  will  turn  quick- 
ly now  and  then  -gave  him  an  unexpected  relationship. 


SOUTHERN  HERO  TALES  95 

One  day  a  company  of  men  and  women — the  social  set 
to  which  he  was  admitted  because  of  his  college  worth 
rather  than  his  own  desire  for  such — were  discussing  the 
politics  of  the  day.  The  issue  was  whether  or  not  the 
people  of  the  commonwealth  would  permit  their  present 
Congressman  to  continue  in  office  with  all  the  charges 
of  graft  clinging  to  him.  All  admitted  his  defeat  de- 
sirable, but  none  dared  to  "bell  the  cat."  He  had  been 
in  power  for  years;  the  "ring"  organization  and  office 
holders  were  behind  him.  As  if  sending  a  challenge  to 
a  knight  of  the  olden  time,  the  fair-eyed  damsel  turned 
to  the  young  man  fresh  from  the  dewy  mountains  and 
said:  "You  can  beat  him."  Like  the  valorous  knight 
of  old,  he  picked  up  the  gauntlet  where  she  had  thrown 
it  down,  for  he  thought  he  saw  more  than  a  mere  chal- 
lenge to  win  a  seat  in  Congress;  and  he  did. 

It  was  a  long,  hard-fought  battle,  with  the  odds  against 
him.  But  he  drew  from  his  fine  reserve  of  brain  and 
health,  plus  a  college  training,  to  all  of  which  was  added 
the  luster  in  the  eye  and  the  roses  in  the  cheek  of  the 
fair  young  girl  who  had  thrown  down  the  gauntlet.  And 
he  won.  It  was  more  than  a  place  in  the  councils  of  a 
great  nation  that  was  his  prize  on  that  victorious  day. 
Keeping  tune  to  the  plaudits  of  friends  and  admirers 


96 

on  the  happy  day  when  he  took  his  seat  under  the  big 
white  dome  at  Washington  was  the  merry  chime  of  wed- 
ding bells,  which  brought  to  him  forever  the  bright-eyed 
girl  whose  very  charm  was  in  seeing  that  he  could  win 
and  whose  greatest  value  was  in  helping  him  to  find  him- 
self in  a  large  way.  Now,  often,  surrounded  by  admir- 
ing friends,  he  tells  this  story,  which  he  never  names,  but 
which  his  charming  wife  calls  "Walking  to  Congress.'' 
Thus,  sitting  in  the  circle  of  the  nation's  most  renowned 
statesmen  is  the  man  who,  as  a  boy,  dared  to  venture, 
and  by  so  doing  won  what  he  who  never  tries  and  never 
braves  the  danger  cannot  hope  to  win. 


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